


Snapshot

by babydolljones1104



Series: Snapshot [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Absent Parents, Anxiety Disorder, Child Neglect, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, POV First Person, Parent Death, Present Tense, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, alcoholic parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydolljones1104/pseuds/babydolljones1104
Summary: Sabrina Hammond is a loner. She prefers it that way. When she does go out, the only company she wants is that of her camera. On the rare occasion where Sabrina wants to spend time with a person, she hangs out at her father's diner. But Sabrina's life changes in an instant when her father is found dead in his diner. Everyone decides that it was a suicide, but Sabrina knows her dad better than that, even if no one believes her.Then Sabrina's photography partner asks her opinion of a photo he took while looking for his recently-missing brother. The photo is of Barbara Holland, another recently-missing person, with a strange figure behind her. Sabrina doesn't know how, but she knows these recent disappearances have to be connected to her father's murder.In her search for answers, Sabrina forms an unlikely alliance with her photography partner and fellow loner Jonathan Byers, as well as Barbara Holland's best friend Nancy Wheeler, the preppy good girl. And just when Sabrina thinks things can't get any weirder, she finds herself drawn to Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins High, who also happens to be Nancy's boyfriend.
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Original Character(s), Steve Harrington/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Snapshot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748317
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

_November 7, 1983_

I hurry into second period just as the bell rings. "You’re just in time, Ms. Hammond," The photography teacher says as I sit in my seat.

I don’t say anything as I pull my camera out of my bag and place it on the table in front of me. And then I realize my partner for the project we’re currently working on isn't in the chair next to me. There are no assigned seats in photography class, so it’s not unusual to see students sitting in a different spot every day. My partner and I usually sit next to each other in the front row, though, since we have no other friends to sit with. Even if we aren’t really friends ourselves. But when I look around the room, I don't see his face. "Gina," I whisper to the girl on my left. "Have you seen Jonathan?"

She shakes her head. "I also have first period with him,” She tells me. “He wasn't there, either."

I lean back in my seat as the teacher explains what we’re doing today. Today we’re focusing on taking close-up photographs. I’m trying not to zone out. This is amateur stuff. I’d learned the basics of photography when I was seven years old. But photography is one of the only things I enjoy, and taking it as my elective is an easy A. So, here I am.

As the class lines up to take the hall passes specifically for photography students, which allow us to spend the class period anywhere we want, the teacher reminds us to not wander too far from campus and to be back in the classroom five minutes before the bell rings.

Once I get my pass, I decide to go out to the woods behind the football field. Maybe I'll be able to find some trees that have bark with some interesting textures.

I raise my camera to take a picture of the maple leaves a couple of feet above me. The tree I’m standing under is short enough that raising my arms and using the zoom helps me get a close-up shot. I take a few pictures before lowering the camera. I can't help but notice that all of the other students were walking in pairs or groups and I wonder where Jonathan is.

I’m used to working alone. I prefer to be alone most of the time. But I’d gotten used to working with Jonathan. When the photography teacher announced a few weeks ago that we’re going to be spending the rest of the semester working on a project in pairs, I wasn't too happy. But some of that anger dissipated when I found out Jonathan Byers was going to be my partner. He’s a lot like me. He’s a loner, and he is the only other kid in the class who takes photography seriously. The other kids, while some of them might enjoy taking photos, mostly see the class as an opportunity to goof off for an hour. And even though Jonathan and I aren't exactly friends, I’m kind of missing his company right now.

Toward the end of second period, I’m taking some close-ups of the bark on some of the different types of trees when I notice something strange up ahead. One of the trees has an opening of some kind at the bottom of the trunk. It stops about a foot and a half off the ground and is arched at the top, almost like a doorway. It’s covered in what looks like a bunch of spiderwebs.

I start walking toward it, but when I go to remove my hand from the trunk of the tree I’m standing next to, a piece of bark stabs me in the finger. I stare at the fat drop of blood forming on my finger. "Damn it," I mutter. I wipe the blood across the back of my hand just to stop it from running down my finger. I’ll have to wash my hands before second period ends.

Then I hear branches snapping somewhere to my right. I look toward the sound, but there was nothing there. "Hello?" I call.

There’s a weird clicking sound. I’ve never heard an animal that sounds like that. I’m about to walk toward the sound when the bell rings.

"Shit!" I lost track of time again. I start running toward the school. I can’t be late for third period again. I run down the hall, into the photography classroom. "I’m sorry," I tell Mrs. Smith. "I was so focused on what I was doing-"

She interrupts me with, "Can you stay for a moment? I'll write you a pass, of course."

I nod. "Yeah, ok." I put my camera in my bag and walk to the front of the room, stopping in front of the teacher's desk.

She’s staring up at me from her chair as she says, "Don't think your efforts in this class have gone unnoticed, Sabrina. You are not only one of the hardest working students I've had in a long time, but one of the most talented as well. I was going to speak with Mr. Byers about this as well, but he doesn't appear to be here today.”

I don't say anything. I have no idea where this is going.

She continues, "I know it's only November, but I'm looking at teaching a photography class in the summer for younger kids. I would need two people to help me, and you and Jonathan are the first people that come to mind. It would be a paid position."

"I would love that," I say honestly. "It sounds awesome."

"I'm glad to hear that. I will keep you updated."

"Great. Thanks."

Mrs. Smith writes my pass and I leave for third period. I’m late anyway, and lucky enough to have a pass, so I stop in the bathroom to wash the blood off my hands.

I’m coming out of the bathroom when someone slams into my left side and we both fall on the floor. I shove whoever it is off me as I get up and ask, "What the fuck?"

"Sorry," the person says. As they stand up, I realize that it’s Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins High. And from what I know about him, he might as well be the king of douchebags, too. He keeps talking, and tells me, "I was running from the dean. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"Well, that’s kind of obvious,” I tell him.

He studies my face before asking, “Are you new here? I feel like I would have remembered seeing a face like yours before.”

He almost seems like he’s flirting with me. But I heard that he and Nancy Wheeler are starting to get serious. Then again, Steve Harrington is the exact type of guy who would hit on another girl while he’s in a relationship.

"Actually, I've lived in Hawkins my whole life,” I tell him. “You and I had English together last year. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the guy who had to take a freshman English class when he was a sophomore can't recognize someone who's been going to the same school as him for almost ten years."

He stares at me for another moment before saying, "I remember. Samantha, right?"

"It’s Sabrina,” I say flatly. “But nice try. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class."

He doesn’t say anything else as I walk off.

Less than an hour later, third period is over, it’s lunchtime, and everyone is talking about the same thing: Will Byers.

Will is Jonathan’s younger brother, who was supposedly reported missing this morning.

I’m not sure where anyone got that information, but I believe it. My classmates might be idiots, but even they have better things to do than make up rumors about someone not coming to school because their brother is missing. And even if my classmates were that stupid, they wouldn’t bother making it up about someone like Jonathan. Like me, Jonathan isn’t exactly high up in the social hierarchy of Hawkins High.

A missing person would be a big deal no matter what, but it’s an especially big deal in a place like Hawkins. Bad things don’t happen here. Maybe that sounds like a naive thing to say, but it’s true.


	2. Chapter 2

I walk into my mom’s house after school. My parents have been divorced most of my life, and for as long as I can remember, they’ve had fifty-fifty custody of me. It’s a weekly thing, and it changes every Friday afternoon immediately after school ends. This week is my mom’s week, and even though I’ve been here for three days now, I haven’t seen my mom yet. It’s probably for the better. My mom is a drunk and spends most of her time either at the bar or at the house of whatever guy she’s dating this month.

When I walk through the front door and into the empty house, I go straight to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich. Bread and sandwich condiments are just about the only foods we have in this house.

I’m standing at the counter, eating my sandwich when I decide to call my dad. It’s only two in the afternoon, so I call him at work.

My dad answers on the first ring. “Benny’s Burgers, this is Benny. How can I help you?”

“Hi Dad,” I say.

“Hey kid, how’s it going?”

“Ok,” I answer.

“Your mom around?”

I laugh. “Please.” Then I say, “There’s nothing going on around here, so I was thinking that maybe I come hang out at the diner.”

“Uh, I’ve got something I’m kind of busy with here,” My dad tells me.

He sounds kind of weird, so I ask, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve just got my hands full right now.”

“If it’s busy, I can come help you in the kitchen.” Whenever I help my dad out at the diner, I always work in the kitchen. I never interact with the customers. I don’t do well with people, and my dad is one of the only adults in my life who doesn’t push me to interact with others.

“You don’t need to do that,” My dad tells me.

“You’re sure everything’s ok?” I ask slowly.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you everything later, ok?”

“Ok, I’ll call you at home tonight,” I say before hanging up. I’m not sure what’s going on with my dad, but he said he’ll tell me later, and I believe him. We never lie to each other.

I go into the living room and turn on the tv as I sit down on the couch, flipping through the channels. I’m looking for any local news. I want to see if there’s anything about Jonathan’s brother. I land on channel three, where a newscaster is saying that there’s going to be a search party for Will tonight. It doesn't take much for me to decide that I’m going. I met Will a few weeks ago when I went to the Byers house so Jonathan and I could work on our semester project. Will is a sweet kid and I hope he’s ok.

It’s just past eight-thirty and the search party is going through the woods where Will’s bike had been found earlier when it starts pouring rain. The search party holds out for about ten more minutes before the police call it off.

I’m walking out of the woods and toward the road when I hear someone calling my name. I turn around to see Hopper coming toward me. Hopper is the chief of police in Hawkins, and most people refer to him as Chief Hopper. But he’s friends with my dad, so to me, he’s just Hopper or Hop. “Hey Hop,” I say as he gets closer. “Did we find anything tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you think happened?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t know,” Hopper admits. “This kid, it’s like he vanished. All we’ve found is his bike.”

“Do you think someone took him?”

Hopper doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he asks, “How about I drive you home? You’re staying at your mom’s this week, right?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hopper says, heading toward his Blazer. “Besides, Benny would never forgive me if he found out I let you walk home in the rain.”

“All right, thanks,” I say as I climb into the passenger seat.

On the way back to my house, Hopper says, “I was surprised you showed up tonight. Your dad says you don’t leave the house very often unless it’s to take pictures.”

“Will is my photography partner’s brother,” I explain. “But I think I would have come anyway. It wouldn’t feel right to sit at home while there’s a missing kid.”

“You’re a good kid, you know that?”

I smile. “I got it all from my dad.” My dad is a genuinely good person, which is hard to find these days. He had been raised to be a kind and caring person and he raised me to be the same way.

When Hopper pulls up in front of my mom’s house, I say, “Thanks for the ride.” I go inside and get ready for bed before calling my dad’s house, just like I told him I’d do. I call him every night anyway when I’m at my mom’s house. It’s part of our routine.

He doesn’t answer the phone. That’s not too unusual, since he stays late at his diner some nights, especially if it’s been a busy day. But he doesn’t answer at the diner either, and _that_ is unusual. If he isn’t at home, he’s usually at the diner. If he isn’t at the diner, he’s usually at home.

I dial his house again and wait for the answering machine to pick up. “Hey Dad,” I say. “I guess you’re not around right now. I already called here once before calling the diner. I was just calling to say good night and that I love you. Maybe I’ll stop by the diner after school tomorrow. Bye.” After hanging up, I turn my light off and go to bed, trying to ignore the feeling that something is wrong with my dad.

I get like this sometimes. Super nervous for no reason, or little reasons that most people wouldn’t even think twice about. My mom gets this way too, sometimes, and even though I’ve never asked, I think it might be why she drinks so much.

As I lay down, there’s a flash of lightning a second before a loud clap of thunder. I think about Will Byers, who is probably out in that storm. I hope that by the time I wake up tomorrow, he’ll be safe at home.

I hope that by the time I wake up tomorrow, everything will be normal.


	3. Chapter 3

_November 8, 1983_

When I leave for school on Tuesday morning, I see a van that says Hawkins Power on it parked across the street.

The power hadn't gone out at my house, but I wouldn't be surprised if the storm knocked out the power on other parts of my street last night. The whole town had lost power for a few minutes on Sunday night, too.

I wonder if something is wrong with the phones. I tried calling my dad before leaving, but once again, he didn’t answer at his house _or_ the diner. I left a message on his machine at home, but I’m not sure if you can do that even if the phones aren’t working.

I walk down the street, trying to ignore that growing sense of dread, trying to tell myself that it’s just my imagination getting away from me again.

I walk through the school parking lot with White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane playing on my Walkman. I feel like it’s a fitting song. School feels like a much duller version of Wonderland. Nothing here makes sense whatsoever. Nothing in _life_ is making sense for me right now. I take my headphones off when I see Jonathan Byers a few feet ahead of me and run to catch up with him. “Hey.”

He looks up at me. “Hi, Sabrina.”

I look at the stack of papers he’s holding. Missing posters for Will. I’m guessing that means he hadn’t been miraculously found overnight.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” I say. “I was at the search party last night. A lot of people were. But I just wanted to say that if you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks. I’m just hanging one of these up on the bulletin board before heading to Indianapolis,” He tells me. “I want to see if Will is with my dad.”

“Good luck. I hope you guys find him soon.”

That feeling of dread I’ve been trying to ignore since last night only gets worse when I’m called to the front office during fourth period. I’m told to bring my things with me. That usually only happens when someone’s parents are picking them up. But I’m not expecting either of my parents to pick me up. I have no reason to.

When I walk down the hall toward the front office, I see Hopper waiting by the door. “Hopper? What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’ll explain in the car.”

“Where are we going?”

All he says is, “Trust me, Sabrina, you don’t want to talk about this here.”

That only makes me want to ask a million more questions, but something in his tone tells me that I should just listen to him and wait until we’re in the car.

We’re pulling out of the school parking lot when Hopper quietly tells me, “We found your father. About half an hour ago.”

"I don't understand,” I say. “What do you mean?” But I know what he means. I just don’t want to accept it.

"He's dead, Sabrina. I am so sorry."

I don’t freak out, which surprises me. I simply ask in a flat voice, “How? What happened?”

Hopper seems to hesitate before saying, "It looks like it was a suicide."

I shake my head. "No. He wouldn't- He wouldn't kill himself. He's never been depressed a day in his life."

"Some people don't show the signs."

"I know my dad,” I insist. “He would never commit suicide. If he’s dead, somebody killed him."


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later, I’m sitting in Hopper’s office at the police station. I’ve finally stopped crying, and Hopper quietly tells me, “There’s some questions I need to ask you.”

All I say is, “He didn’t kill himself.”

“Sabrina, we’ve been over this,” He says gently. “The gun was in his hand.”

“Someone staged it,” I argue. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Who would have staged it?”

“A robber?” I suggest. “I mean, who else?”

“There was still money in the register.”

“Maybe they didn’t take all of the money.” But it’s a weak argument and I know it.

Hopper is quiet for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure you don’t want to call your mom?”

I shake my head. “There’s no point in that. She’ll come home eventually.”

“Let’s just go over this one more time. When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” I answer. “I called him when I got home from school. He said he was busy with something and that he’d tell me about it during our nightly phone call.”

“But he didn’t answer the phone last night?”

I shake my head.

“How did he sound when you talked to him yesterday?”

“He sounded…” I trail off, trying to figure out how I can explain my dad’s tone yesterday. “He sounded kind of stressed,” I admit. “But that doesn’t prove anything.”

“How has his mood been overall lately?”

“I already told you, Hop, he wasn’t depressed. I know this looks like a suicide, but I also know that it wasn’t.”

Hopper leans back in his chair. “Then what do you think happened?”

“I already said I don’t know. _You’re_ the police. It’s _your_ job to figure out what happened.”

Hopper closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I know this is difficult for you,” He says slowly. “I know how close you two were. This isn’t easy for me either, all right? He was my friend. But-”

“But you’re just going to write this off as a suicide when he was murdered.”

“He was still holding the gun. His fingerprints were the only ones on the gun. There was still money in the register and there was no sign of a break-in or a struggle. I’m sorry, Sabrina.”

I think about something Hopper had said earlier. The bullet wound was on the side of my dad’s head. And if that’s true… “He didn’t kill himself with a shotgun, did he?” I ask.

“No, it was a handgun. Why?”

“It wasn’t his,” I say. “The gun. It’s not his. The only two guns my dad has are shotguns. One at his house, under the dresser in his bedroom. One at the diner, behind the counter. You can check his papers. They’re in the filing cabinet in his home office. If he killed himself with anything else, the gun wasn’t his.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Why would my dad kill himself with someone else’s gun? And if he did, why weren’t there any other prints on it?”

Hopper seems to consider this for a moment before telling me, “I’ll look into it.”

A few hours later, I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I feel numb. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. My dad can’t be dead.

But he is. I saw him. Hopper had made the ID before coming to get me, but I’d still wanted to see. I needed to see. I needed to be sure. So, Hopper took me to see.

My dad is dead.

Someone killed him. I know it. There wasn’t even been a note. And I know not everyone leaves a note before they commit suicide, but there are other things telling me something isn’t right. I refuse to believe my dad would have left me. He loved me too much to do that. He loved _life_ too much to kill himself.

I roll onto my side and look at the picture on my nightstand. It’s a picture of my dad and me in our pajamas in front of the Christmas tree. In the picture, I’m holding the camera with one hand, taking the picture. My other hand is behind my dad’s head, giving him bunny ears. He also has a hand behind my head, giving me bunny ears. I’m seven years old in that picture. It was the first picture I had taken with my first camera.

“I’m going to find out what happened to you, Dad,” I whisper. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that a lot of these chapters have been ridiculously short, so I'm posting two chapters today to make up for it!


	5. Chapter 5

_November 9, 1983_

On Wednesday morning, I get up and get dressed for school. I know going to school the day after finding out your dad died probably sounds strange, but I need to do something normal. What am I going to do otherwise? Sit around at home crying all day? Sitting around and doing nothing isn’t my style. At least at school, I have the chance of learning something or being semi-productive.

When I reach the end of my street, there’s a black car parked by the curb. I try to ignore the feeling that whoever is inside is watching me when I walk past. I know I’m just being paranoid.

Just like every other morning, I get to school about fifteen minutes before first period. I can feel people watching me as I walk into the school. I can hear them whispering about me. My dad’s death made the news last night, which is the last thing I’d wanted. Things just can’t get any worse.

I usually spend the time before first period by my locker, listening to my Walkman. But today, not even the sound of The Smiths can block out the fact that everyone is talking about me. So, I hide out in the library until the warning bell rings two minutes before first period.

When I sit down in my usual seat in English, I feel someone tapping on my shoulder. When I turn around, Nancy Wheeler is leaning forward in the seat behind me.

I like Nancy, I guess. She’s better than most of my other classmates. She and I have never exactly been friends, but we’ve had a lot of classes together since first grade, and have even worked together on a few group projects. She’s nice, and I have no idea what she’s doing with a guy like Steve Harrington.

“I heard about your dad,” She says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

I’m about to turn back around when she asks, “You haven’t seen Barbara this morning, have you?”

I look at the desk next to Nancy, where her best friend Barbara Holland usually sits. But today it’s empty. I shake my head and tell Nancy, “I spent the morning in the library. I haven’t really seen anyone, sorry.”

Nancy looks worried, which I can’t help thinking is strange. Barb is probably just sick. What’s the big deal? Then I remember that Will Byers is still missing and that his disappearance has a lot of people on edge.

Everyone is still staring at me and whispering about me when lunch comes around, so I decide to spend the lunch period in the darkroom, processing some of the pictures I took last week.

Toward the end of the lunch period, I’m getting ready to leave for my biology class when Jonathan walks in. “Hey,” He says. “There’s something I wanted to ask your opinion on.”

I look over my shoulder at him. “What’s up?”

“I was looking at my negatives, and there’s something weird in one of them.”

“Let me see.”

Jonathan sets the roll of film on the table behind me and holds a magnifying glass over the picture he wants me to see.

I squint at the tiny image. "Is that Barbara Holland?"

"Yeah, but-"

In the picture, she’s sitting on a diving board above a pool. “Is she in someone’s backyard?” I ask. “Did she know you took this?”

“Look, I know I shouldn’t have done it,” He says. “But you can’t tell me that you’ve never taken a picture of someone without them knowing.”

I can't argue with that. Sometimes I'd take my camera to the park and spend the day snapping photos of random people. But I never take pictures of people in their backyards or anything like that, and I wouldn't be ok with anyone doing that to me either. Still, all I say is, "Why are you showing me this?"

"Look behind her. There's something there."

I look closer. There’s something behind her. But this is a negative and it’s way too small for me to see anything clearly. "Blow it up," I tell him.

"What?"

"Blow it up. We need a better look."

"For a lens flare?”

I look at Jonathan. "Would you really show this to me if you thought this is just a lens flare?"

Jonathan sounds unsure of himself as he says, "It has to be. There was nothing there. I've just never seen a lens flare like this one."

"You're sure there was nothing there?"

"I don't know," He admits. "I was changing my film when I heard a sound. I looked up and she was gone."

"She just disappeared?" I ask. I think back to this morning when Nancy seemed worried about Barb not being at school. Does Nancy know something she didn’t bring up?

"I figured she left to go home."

"I feel like you would have seen her leaving or going inside if that was the case," I say. I pause before asking, "You know she didn’t show up for school today?”

“Really? That’s weird.”

“Nancy Wheeler seemed worried about it. I thought that maybe she was just being paranoid, but what if she has a reason to be worried? What if she knows about something that happened?”

“That’s a pretty big leap,” Jonathan tells me. “Barb probably just stayed home today.”

I know he’s right, I know I’m being paranoid. But there are a lot of weird things going on. “My dad died a few days ago.” And I know I’ve been ridiculously paranoid every since.

"I heard about that. I'm sorry."

“I don’t think he killed himself.” I look at Jonathan and tell him, "I guess I’m just being paranoid, but there have been a lot of things happening lately.” I don’t mention that I feel like someone has been following me. I shrug before gesturing to the negative. "Look, just blow it up. Maybe you'll prove me wrong at it was just a lens flare after all."

After school, I walk out of the side entrance of the gym and see Steve Harrington and three of his friends, Tommy, Carol, and Nicole talking to Jonathan by his car. It doesn’t look like a friendly conversation.

Steve and his friends are looking through a bunch of pictures. Steve is occasionally looking up from them, making comments to Jonathan that I’m too far away to hear.

I know that I should stay out of it. Even so, I find myself walking toward them. A lot of people find it odd that I’m so confrontational for someone who’s so damn nervous all the time. But the only thing stronger than my anxiety is my sense of justice. I hate when things are unfair and I hate people who get their entertainment out of treating others like shit.

“I was looking for my brother,” Jonathan tells them.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “This is called stalking.”

“Do you ever take a day off from being an asshole?” I ask Steve as I walk over.

He stares at me for a moment before flatly saying, “Great, it’s you again.” He smirks. “Samantha, right?”

I walk right up to him and quietly say, “Look, his brother is still missing. Whatever your issue is, can’t it wait?” I understand why Steve and his friends are pissed off. Honestly, I would be too, if I found out someone was taking pictures of me in my backyard. But this is not the time for whatever Steve and his friends are planning.

“Stay out of this,” Steve warns me.

Before I can respond, Nancy walks over.

"There's the staring lady," Tommy says.

Nancy looks confused as she asks, “What are you talking about?”

"Looks like we had a stalker last night," Carol says. "He was probably going to save this one for later." She hands Nancy a picture and Nancy stares at it in horror.

I can’t help thinking that Carol almost seems excited to show Nancy whatever the picture is. That doesn’t surprise me. Carol has always thrived on tormenting people.

Steve looks at me. "Nicole told us that you’re his photography partner. You have to know he took these, right?” He shrugs as he adds, “I mean, unless you’re stupid enough to defend someone when you don’t know what you’re defending them for.” He steps closer to me, his voice dropping as he says, "Maybe you and Byers have even done a few photoshoots together."

And that’s when I start putting things together. But I don’t have much time to think before my anger at Steve takes over, and in one of those rare moments where I act before thinking, I punch Steve, my left fist connecting with the right side of his face. And honestly, I think it hurts me more than it hurts him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Carol asks, taking a step toward me.

Steve holds an arm out, stopping her. “Don’t bother with her,” He tells Carol. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he adds, “She’s just mad because she knows I’m right.”

“I’m mad because you are the biggest jerk I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” I tell him.

Steve turns away from me and back to Jonathan. "The thing about perverts," He says. “Is that they know it's wrong. But it's hardwired into them. So, I guess we’re just going to have to take his toy away." He looks at Tommy, who starts digging through the bag he’s holding. I don’t understand why until Tommy pulls out a camera. It’s Jonathan’s.

“Please,” Jonathan says.

Tommy looks like he’s ready to throw the camera to the ground, but Steve tells him, “Hold on.” He takes it and turns to Jonathan, holding out the camera. “Here.”

Jonathan cautiously steps forward, and Steve lets the camera fall out of his hands and it shatters on the ground. Tommy, Carol, and Nicole all laugh, tearing up the pictures before walking away with Steve.

Nancy just stands there in shock before looking at the ground and bending down to gather the pieces of the photos surrounding her. She freezes when she looks at something in one of the photos and glances at Jonathan for a second.

“Nance, come on!” Steve calls.

Nancy shoves the torn scraps of paper into her bag before going to catch up with Steve and his friends.

Jonathan looks at me. "I get it if you ask Mrs. Smith to let you finish the project alone," He says as he leans down to pick up the broken camera and the rest of the pictures.

I shake my head. "Taking pictures like that was messed up-"

"I get that, ok?"

"But we all make stupid, stupid, stupid mistakes sometimes."

Jonathan looks like that’s the last thing he was expecting me to say. Then he tells me, "I wasn't- I didn't take those pictures to-"

I cut him off with, "I didn't think that."

“I was looking for Will and I saw them all outside. I got caught up in taking pictures. I wasn’t even thinking about what I was doing.”

“I believe you,” I tell him honestly. If it was anyone other than Jonathan, I would probably think differently. But Jonathan doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would take those pictures for creepy reasons. Maybe it’s because I’m a photographer too, but I believe him.

Later that night, I’m walking out of the general store downtown when I see a black car parked across the street. The car is on, but it’s too dark for me to see who’s inside. Not that it matters much, because even if it was daytime right now, the windows seem like they’re tinted too dark for anyone to see inside.

I’m still staring at the car when someone grabs my arm and says, “Sabrina.”

When I look at the person next to me, I realize it’s Steve. "What the fuck?” I’m glaring at him as I say, "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

"I'm sorry," He tells me. "I called your name."

"Sabrina or Samantha?” I ask flatly.

"Sabrina."

I don’t say anything as I turn to look at the black car again. It’s gone.

Steve is still talking. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"What do you want?"

“To say I’m sorry. You know, about what I said earlier.”

I laugh bitterly. “Which part?”

“All of it. I mean, seriously. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it, which surprises me. Steve Harrington doesn’t apologize for anything, whether it’s his fault or not. He seems to hesitate before adding, “And I heard about your dad. I’m sorry that… happened.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “We are- I mean, we _were,_ really close.”

“How’s your hand?” He asks, nodding toward my left hand, which is wrapped in an ACE bandage.

“It’s fine,” I say, not knowing if it’s true or not. Punching Steve had messed up my hand. I’ve never punched someone before today, and I have no idea how to properly throw a punch.

Steve stares at me for a second before asking, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine.” But I’m not. Because I can’t stop thinking about that car I saw across the street. Specifically, I can’t stop thinking about how it looks similar to the one I saw on my way to school this morning. “I’ll see you around,” I say before walking off.

When I get home, I sit down in the living room and turn the tv on. I flip through the channels, looking for anything interesting enough to help me take my mind off everything that’s happened this week.

I stop on the news channel when I see that they’re talking about Will Byers. The newscaster is standing in front of the quarry and there’s a headline at the bottom of the screen that says:

**Will Byers’s Body Found**


	6. Chapter 6

_November 10, 1983_

On Thursday morning, I’m woken up an hour before my alarm is supposed to go off when someone starts knocking on the front door. When I open the door, Hopper is standing on the front step. The first thing I ask is, “Did you find anything out about my dad?”

“I think I might have,” He tells me. “Can I come in?”

I nod. “Sure.” We go into the kitchen and sit down at the table. “What did you find?” I ask.

“You were right about the gun. The two shotguns were the only guns your dad had records of. The weird thing is that we can't track the gun we found him with."

"What do you mean?"

"Every gun has a serial number so we can track it in cases like this. But the problem is, the gun we found doesn't have a serial number."

"Could it be a mistake?” I ask. “Like, a production error?"

"Maybe. But it's illegal to own a gun without a serial number. The most likely case is that someone filed the number down."

"My dad wouldn't illegally own a gun," I say. “Especially if all he was going to do was kill himself with it. There’s no reason for it.”

"I know. I don't know what's going on, but I'm starting to think you’re right."

"I know I am."

“You talked to your dad on Monday when you got home from school, right?” Hopper asks. “That was when he said he was busy?”

I nod. “Do you know about something that happened on Monday?” I ask slowly.

“A little kid came into the diner on Monday afternoon,” He tells me. “Your dad caught him trying to steal food. He closed the diner early, said he was going to make the kid something to eat.”

I wonder if that’s what my dad had been busy with. Then I ask, “Do you think this kid killed him?” I’m not sure why else Hopper would be bringing this up.

"I don't know. A little kid shooting someone? That’s crazy. But I’ve seen some crazy stuff." He pauses before saying, "I'm going to get to the bottom of this, Sabrina. I promise."

"Thank you."

I’m walking Hopper to the door when he asks, "What's wrong with your hand?"

I look down at my left hand, which is still wrapped up. "I don't know." I unwrap it and hold it out. "Do you think it's broken?"

"It looks bad. Does it hurt?"

"It hurts,” I admit. It hurts way worse than I’m willing to admit, given how I broke it.

"You should get it checked out. I can take you to the emergency room right now."

I shake my head. "I'm sure you have more important things to do."

“All I have to do today is meet Joyce Byers at the coroner's office, but that isn't for a couple of hours.”

“How are they?” I ask quietly. I feel terrible for Jonathan and his mom.

“It won’t be easy, but they’ll get through it.”

I don’t say anything. I know that Hopper had a daughter who died a few years ago, before he moved back to Hawkins. I wonder if this whole thing is bringing up those memories for him.

“How are you doing?” He asks me.

I shrug. “I’m handling things.”

“Go get dressed,” He tells me. “I’ll wait outside.”

I know there’s no arguing with Hopper, so I go into my room and change into jeans and a t-shirt. It’s cold this morning, so I put my leather jacket on as well. I put on my red hightops and grab my backpack before going outside.

An hour later, I’m sitting in a hospital room listening to a doctor tell me that my x-rays show that I broke my hand.

I’m going to have to wear a cast for six weeks, which doesn't sound so bad at first. I’m picturing a cast on my hand, going down to my wrist, maybe halfway down my lower arm. But then I find out that it’s going to go up to my elbow. "I'm going to look stupid," I whine. "How am I going to hold my camera? Or write? I'm left-handed! How am I going to do anything?"

"Maybe in the future, you will be more careful," The doctor responds. “Violence doesn’t solve anything.”

I glare at him but don't say anything.

Half an hour after that, my hand is in a cast, and Hopper and I are leaving the hospital. "Do you still want me to take you to school?" He asks me.

I nod. School is better than sitting at home all day.

On the way to the school, Hopper asks, "How did you hurt your hand, again?"

"I punched some jerk at school."

"I hope it was worth it.”

I don’t say anything. I’m not sure if it was. I’m quiet for a moment, debating whether I should bring up something that’s been on my mind since my dad’s death. I know that I need to. Now that my dad is dead, I don’t have much of a choice. “I need help with something,” I tell Hopper.

“What is it?”

“I need to find out how to get emancipated.”

After school, I’m walking into the house just as the phone starts ringing. I pick it up. “Hello?”

“Sabrina? It’s Jonathan.”

He’s the last person I’d expect a call from. Especially with his brother having been found dead less than twenty-four hours ago. “Hi,” I say. “I, uh, I’m sorry about Will. I-”

He cuts me off with, “Can you meet me at Nancy Wheeler’s house?”

“What?”

“Can you? We’ll explain everything once you get here.”

I don’t answer. What the hell is going on?

“It’s about that picture I showed you,” He tells me.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say before hanging up.


	7. Chapter 7

Ten minutes later, I’m knocking on the Wheeler’s front door.

Nancy opens the door almost immediately and pulls me inside. “I’m glad you’re here,” She tells me in a hushed voice. “You need to see-”

“Nancy? Who is it?” Mrs. Wheeler asks as she walks into the front hallway.

“Mom, you remember Sabrina, right?” Nancy says. “She’s done a few projects with me before.”

Mrs. Wheeler nods. “It’s nice to see you again, Sabrina. I’m so sorry about what happened to your father.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Sabrina, Jonathan, and I are all working on a project for English,” Nancy tells her mom. She turns to me. “Come on, Jonathan is already upstairs.” She leads me up the stairs and into her bedroom, where Jonathan is sitting on the foot of the bed.

“What’s going on?” I ask them as Nancy shuts the door.

Jonathan hands me a taped-up photo. It’s the one he had shown me of Barbara.

"This was the night she went missing," Nancy tells me.

"It wasn't a lens flare," Jonathan says as I stare at the picture. "But we don’t know what it is."

The thing in this picture, standing behind Barb, isn’t something I’ve ever seen before. It has a body kind of like a human’s, although it’s much taller than any person I’ve ever seen. There’s nothing human about its face, though. It doesn’t even have a face, just a head that looks like a closed flower.

“What is that?” I whisper. This thing can’t be real. But I’m looking at a photograph of it. I know it’s real.

“I think I saw it yesterday,” Nancy tells me. “At Steve’s house. Barb went missing when we were at a party there.”

“You guys think this thing took Barb?”

“And Will,” Jonathan says quietly.

I look at him. “Will is-”

“My mom says she’s been… talking to him,” Jonathan says with a shrug. “She doesn’t believe that the body is his.”

I can’t help asking, “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” He admits.

Nancy looks at me and carefully says, “Jonathan told me you don’t believe that your dad committed suicide.”

“No, I don’t.” I’m still looking at the picture as I say, “But he was shot. I don’t know what this thing is, but it doesn’t look like it needs a gun to kill someone.” This thing looks like it can kill someone with its bare hands… Or whatever it has in place of hands. I take a deep breath, trying not to freak out. This is too much. I’m not even sure what this is, but I already know that this is way more than anything I want to deal with.

Nancy studies my face for a moment before telling me, “We want to find this thing.”

I look at her. “And you guys want me to help?”

She nods.

“Why?”

Nancy seems surprised by my question. “You’re a part of this just as much as we are.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not.”

“Your dad-”

“Was shot,” I say firmly.

“Sabrina,” Nancy says impatiently. “Look at that thing. Your dad may have been shot, but do you seriously think it’s a coincidence that something like _that_ might be running around Hawkins at the same time all this weird stuff is going on?”

I don’t say anything as I stare at the picture of Barb and whatever that thing is.

“Maybe your dad saw this thing and someone killed him to make sure he didn’t tell anyone.”

It’s possible. Because I know that these things have to be connected somehow.

She goes on, “Your dad liked hunting, right?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Did you ever go with him?”

I look at her as I ask, “What does this have to do with anything?”

“If you went hunting with him, you must have learned something that can help us.”

I shake my head. “I was twelve that last time I went hunting with him. It’s been four years, I don’t remember much besides the basics.”

Jonathan speaks up then, and tells me, “That’s still more experience than we have.”

“You guys have to track this thing first,” I say. “And that’s mostly common sense. You don’t need me.”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Nancy tells me.

“Safety wouldn’t be a problem is you guys didn’t go after this thing.”

“That’s not an option,” She argues. “If we don’t go after this thing, it’s going to hurt more people.”

Once again, she’s right. And she and Jonathan both look serious about hunting down whatever this thing is. I sigh before asking, “You guys are going after this thing no matter what, aren’t you?”

They both nod.

“Not tonight, though,” Jonathan tells me.

“I don’t know about any of this,” I say, even though I know I’m not going to be able to talk them out of this.

“Look, Will’s funeral is tomorrow,” Jonathan tells me. “Come to that, and we can all talk about this afterward.”

"You're sure you want me there?" I ask. “I mean, at the funeral?” I don’t do good with people. Especially people who are crying.

"You’re one of the only people I've seen Will not have a hard time talking to,” Jonathan tells me. He shrugs as he adds, “I think he’d want you there.”

I have to admit, it’s nice to hear that. Like I said, I don’t do well with people. So, I try to be understanding with people who also seem like they have a hard time talking to others.

Nancy must see that I’m still on the fence, because she tells me, “Sabrina, this thing is going to hurt more people. People like your dad, like Barb, and like Will. And I know you don’t want that.”

I don’t. “Fine.” I sigh. “Let’s hunt this thing down.”

A few minutes after it got dark, Jonathan drops me off at my house. Before I get out of the car, he asks me, “So, you punched Steve so hard that you broke your hand?”

I laugh bitterly. “I punched Steve so _wrong_ that I broke my hand. I don’t think I did any damage to him. Like, at all.”

“I never thanked you for standing up for me, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a shrug. “Steve Harrington is one of those people who needs to be put in his place. Maybe yesterday didn’t do it, but I hate the way he goes around treating people however he wants.”

“What did he say to you? I mean, before you hit him?”

“Something that implied that I’m not a proper lady,” I say drily.

“I don’t get what Nancy sees in him.”

I laugh shortly. “I don’t either.” I get out of the car and say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I haven’t been home long when someone knocks on the front door. I get up from the living room couch and open the door.

A man with gray hair who’s wearing a suit and tie is standing on the front step. There’s a car parked at the curb behind him. A black car that looks very similar to the one I’ve seen twice now. “Sabrina Hammond?” He asks.

I don’t know who this man is, but I know that he’s been following me. Why? I don’t know. But I don’t want to let on that I’ve noticed. I try to sound casual as I ask, “Can I help you?”

“I’m Martin Brenner,” He says. He holds up a government-issued badge. “May I come in?”

I don’t say anything. I have no idea what I should be saying or doing right now. This man is acting perfectly normal, but something about him still scares me.

“This is about your father,” He tells me.

I make no move to let him in as I ask, “What part of the government do you work for, Mr. Brenner?”

“ _Dr._ Brenner,” He corrects. “And I’m afraid that information is classified.”

I try to keep the attitude out of my voice as I say, “Of course.”

“May I come in?” He asks again.

“Now’s not a good time. My mom- Uh, today’s her day off.” It technically isn't a lie. Every day is her day off. “She’s trying to catch up on sleep. I’m not supposed to have anyone over.” My mom isn’t here, but Dr. Brenner doesn’t know that.

“I’m sure your mom will understand, considering the circumstances.”

“You don’t know my mom,” I say flatly. “And I don’t know you, so I’m going to ask that you leave now.”

Dr. Brenner’s demeanor changes as he tells me, “I think you’ll find, Ms. Hammond, that it is in your best interest to cooperate with me.”

I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but I’m not going to let him intimidate me. “My dad was very good friends with Chief Hopper,” I say, giving a subtle warning of my own. “And I think that if you need to talk to anyone about my dad, you should speak to Hopper instead of me. He’s the one handling the case, and I’m sure he’ll be more helpful than me.”

I try to close the door, but Dr. Brenner puts his hand on the door and holds it open. “You need to let this go, Ms. Hammond,” He warns me. “Because if you do not, then you will end up with people thinking that you committed suicide just like your father.” Then he walks back toward the car.

I immediately close and lock the front door. I know that Dr. Brenner just threatened to kill me, but all I can focus on was the way he phrased that last sentence.

_…Just like your father…_

I find it odd that Brenner didn’t say, ‘Just like your father _did.”_ Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, maybe I’m looking for something that isn’t there, but I feel like he was saying something else in that threat. It almost sounded like he knows something about my dad’s death that I don’t.

Either way, it doesn’t matter what he said. I’m not going to give up until I know for sure what happened to my dad.


	8. Chapter 8

_November 11, 1983_

Instead of getting ready for school on Friday morning, I’m getting ready for Will’s funeral. I’m going to Will’s funeral, yet there’s a possibility that he isn’t even dead. The idea that Jonathan’s mom is talking to her dead son would normally sound crazy, but considering everything else I’ve dealt with this week, I’m starting to believe that anything is possible.

As I get ready for the funeral, it occurs to me that I’m going to have to do something about a funeral for my dad. I have no idea where to even begin with that, and I have no adults I can go to for help. I haven’t seen my mom in weeks, and even if she was around, I know she wouldn’t help me arrange a funeral for my dad.

Speaking of my mom… I look at my nightstand. There are a bunch of papers and pamphlets Hopper dropped off last night, all about how to start the process to become an emancipated minor. I need to get started on that process as soon as possible. I can’t spend another minute living with my mom. Even if she’s never home, I need to get away from her and this house.

I look at myself in my bedroom mirror one last time before leaving. I don’t have any formal clothes, so I’d put on a pair of black jeans with a black sweater. I ditched my red Converse for a pair of black heels I borrowed from my mom’s closet. It’s the most funeral-appropriate outfit I could put together, and it’s going to have to do.

The funeral is a small one. Jonathan and his parents are there, along with some of Will’s friends and their families. Nancy is there, too. I’d forgotten that her brother was friends with Will.

I watch Mrs. Byers, who seems distracted even when people are talking to her and her ex-husband, paying their respects. I feel bad for her. She’s insisting that her son is alive and no one believes her.

I know how she feels. I know my dad didn’t kill himself, and even though Hopper is looking into it, I don’t think he completely believes me.

When the funeral is over, Jonathan, Nancy, and I sit down on the grass, away from everyone else, while Nancy shows us a map of Hawkins. There are three dots on it. One near Steve’s house, where Barb was taken. One near the Byers house, and one near the woods where Will’s bike had been found on Monday. “They’re all less than a mile apart,” Nancy tells us. “This thing isn’t traveling very far.”

“This isn’t a bad start at all,” I admit. I look at her and ask, “Are you sure you’ve never been hunting before?”

“With who?” Nancy laughs. “My parents?”

“What do we do when we find this thing?” Jonathan asks.

“We kill it.”

“How?” I ask. “I mean, we all saw that picture. Even with all three of us, there’s no way we can fight this thing on our own.” I hold up my left hand as I add, “And thanks to this, I won’t be much help anyway.”

“I think I have an idea,” Jonathan says. He leads us to his dad’s car, where he tries to pick the lock on the glovebox.

I can’t help admiring the car. It’s a black and gold fastback Mustang from the '60s. It’s awesome, and I have to admit, I’m insanely jealous of Jonathan's dad.

"What happened to your arm?" Nancy asks me.

“I broke my hand," I say, staring at the ground. I’m not about to tell her I broke it when I punched her boyfriend.

Even so, she asks, "Was it the other day? When you hit Steve?"

I don't answer.

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing."

"You hit him over nothing?" Nancy asks in disbelief.

I look at her. "Look, I know I'm probably not your favorite person after I hit your boyfriend, but-”

She shakes her head. "That's not what I was saying at all. I mean, I know how he can be sometimes. But he was just trying to protect me.”

I shrug. “He’s like that all the time.” And even though I don’t say it, I’m surprised that I’m the first person who’s ever hit him.

Before Nancy can respond, Jonathan unlocks the glovebox and pulls out a handgun.

"I don't know if _that’s_ a good idea," I say, pointing at the gun.

"Well, what else are we going to do?" Jonathan asks. "Take another photo? Yell at it?"

"This is a terrible idea," Nancy tells him.

"But it is the only one we have," I admit.

“We could tell someone,” She argues.

"We could," Jonathan says with a shrug. "But they won't believe you. You know that."

"Your mom would.”

Jonathan shakes his head. "She's been through enough."

"She deserves to know."

"And I will tell her. Once this thing is dead."

"What if something happens to us?" I ask carefully. "Maybe we should tell her.”

All Jonathan says is, "I can't do that to her."

I feel like someone should know what we’re doing, just in case something does happen to us, but I know he’s not going to budge on this. So, I don’t argue.

Apparently, Nancy knows this too, because she changes the subject. “Why don’t we meet up in a few hours so we can practice shooting?” She suggests.

“There’s a place we can go near my house,” Jonathan says.

I hold up my left hand. “I don’t think you want me to try shooting anything.” I shrug as I add, “Besides, I have something I need to take care of.” I need to look over those pamphlets about emancipation. I need to get that process started.

“It can’t wait?” Nancy asks me.

I shake my head.

“Ok,” She says. “Then why don’t you meet us at Jonathan’s house later?”

“What time?”

“I think we should start looking before it gets dark,” She says slowly.

“I can meet you guys at four,” I suggest.

Nancy nods. “That sounds good.”

“I’ll see you guys then,” I say before heading home.

The sun is just starting to set when I meet up with Nancy and Jonathan and we begin walking through the woods.

“So, have you heard anything?” I ask Nancy. “I mean, about Barb?”

Nancy is quiet as she tells me, “I guess the police found her car at the bus station, even though it was still by Steve’s house the day after she went missing. The police think she ran away.” Nancy pauses before adding, “But that’s not Barb.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I say. Not only because Barb isn’t the type to run away, but also because if she was taken by this thing we’re hunting, who moved her car? And why?

“What about this does?” Jonathan asks me.

None of it. And it’s only making less sense by the minute.

We wander around aimlessly for a while, not really having any idea what we’re looking for. Nancy and Jonathan spend most of the time bickering, and I spend most of the time ignoring them while looking for _anything_ out of the ordinary.

By the time we finally find something, it’s been dark for a while.

Jonathan starts to say something, but Nancy quickly says, “Shut up.” We both look at her as she asks, “Do you guys hear that?”

The three of us are quiet, and we can hear some kind of crying sound.

“What is that?” Jonathan asks.

We follow the sound until we find a deer laying on the ground, covered in blood.

“It looks like it was hit by a car,” Nancy says as we all kneel down in front of it. “What do we do? We can’t just leave it here.”

“We have to kill it,” I say quietly.

Nancy stares at me.

“I know it sounds horrible,” I tell her. “But that’s what’s best for it.”

“That’s-”

"You guys asked me to come out here because I know about hunting," I remind her. "And one of the rules in hunting is that you do what you can to minimize an animal's suffering."

“I can do it,” Jonathan says, taking the gun from Nancy.

The three of us stand up, and none of us can bring ourselves to look at the deer as Jonathan aims the gun. But before he can pull the trigger, something pulls the deer away.

“What just happened?” I ask.

It should have been impossible. There’s nothing here. We didn’t see or hear anything coming. But something just took the deer.

Jonathan wanders off, trying to see if he can find anything, and Nancy grabs my arm. “What is that?” She asks.

I look at where she’s pointing. A few feet ahead of us, there’s a tree with a big hole in the trunk, just off the ground. It looks like the tree I saw during second period on Monday. And just like that tree, the hole on this one was covered by what looks like spiderwebs. But when we get closer, I realize that it isn’t spiderwebs at all, but some weird goo.

“I saw something like that on Monday,” I tell her. “Behind the school.”

As we approach it, we realize that there’s blood on the ground, near the base of the tree.

“Do you think something took the deer in here?” Nancy asks.

“In where?” I ask. There’s nowhere for anything to go. Things just kept making less sense. And we aren’t finding any answers, just more questions.

Nancy takes off her jacket and sticks her head into the hole in the tree.

“What are you doing?” I cry.

“I’m trying to find answers,” She tells me.

And even though I know it’s a bad idea, I take my jacket off and follow her through whatever this hole is.

We come out of the tree, and I realize that we’re in another forest. This one is darker. There’s something that looks like ash floating through the air. And everything here looks dead.

It’s wrong here. This place is wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

I get up and step away from the tree. "What the fuck?" I say softly.

This can't be real. I have to be hallucinating, having a psychotic break. That’s the only logical explanation for this.

But when I see the look on Nancy’s face as she looks around, I know we’re seeing the same thing.

"You know,” I say slowly. “When I was a kid, I thought that fairies lived in trees."

"Why are you telling me this right now?" Nancy asks.

"Because I don't think that whatever lives here is as nice as fairies are,” I answer. Whatever can survive in a place like this has to be seriously twisted. I look at her and ask, "Do you have the gun?"

"No, Jonathan has it."

"Well, that sucks."

Nancy doesn’t respond as she looks at something behind us.

The second I turn around to see what she’s looking at, I regret doing so. There’s a creature maybe twenty feet away. It’s the thing from Jonathan's photo. And it’s eating the deer.

Nancy takes a step back, and steps on a branch. The creature turns toward us, and Nancy screams and pulls me behind a tree.

“Nancy?” Jonathan yells. He’s only on the other side of that portal, but he sounds so far away.

I take a chance and look around the trunk of the tree we’re against. The creature has turned back to the deer, distracted for now. But I know that it’s going to start looking for us once it’s done with the deer.

“Jonathan!” Nancy yells.

“Nancy, where are you?”

“I’m right here,” She yells. “Sabrina, too.”

“You need to stop yelling,” I tell her quietly.

“We need him to find us.”

“We don’t need him to find us,” I say. “We need to get out of here.”

“Just follow my voice,” Jonathan shouts.

"If you don't stop yelling," I say to Nancy in a low voice. "That thing isn't going to leave us alone much longer. The portal is only a few feet away.”

Nancy shakes her head. “That thing-”

“Is distracted for now,” I tell her calmly. I don’t know how I’m staying so calm. But I can feel myself starting to lose my grip on the calmness. I can feel the panic starting to set in. “But once it’s done eating that deer, it’s going to come after us. So we need to go. Now.”

She shakes her head again.

I don’t say anything as I grab her arm and pull her out from behind the tree, toward the portal. “Go,” I tell her.

Thankfully, she listens.

I go after her, and the portal starts closing around us. “Hurry up,” I tell her.

Nancy comes out of the portal and jumps up, running into Jonathan. She knocks him over, and they lay there on the ground as I come out of the portal just in time to watch it close completely.

"What the hell happened?" Jonathan asks after a moment.

I look at Nancy, who’s about half a second away from having a nervous breakdown. I’m not too far away from having one myself. All I say is, “We’re done for tonight.”


	10. Chapter 10

We drive back to Nancy's house in silence. I can feel myself detaching from… everything. I don’t want to think about what just happened. I don’t want to think about _anything_ that’s happened this week.

When Jonathan stops the car, I look at Nancy, who’s sitting in the front seat, staring straight ahead. "Are you ok?" I ask her.

"I don't know," She says, so quietly that I almost don’t hear her.

I knew going after that thing was a bad idea, but I don't point that out. All I say is, "I have to go. I'll see you guys later."

I start the walk home, desperately trying to not think about what just happened. I had been in another world. I saw a creature that doesn’t exist in our world. But somehow, it now has access to our world.

Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe this is part of a breakdown caused by my dad’s death. I don’t know if I would rather have this be real or all in my head. I don’t know which is worse.

I’m a few blocks from the Wheeler house when a dark red BMW pulls up next to me. "Hey, you need a ride somewhere?"

I look at the driver. It’s Steve. "This is a joke,” I ask. “Right?"

“Sabrina, I'm just trying to be nice."

I stop walking and stare at him. "You're serious?" I’ve had enough breaks with reality in the past hour. I don’t need any more. And Steve Harrington being nice? That definitely doesn’t seem real.

"Yeah."

I don’t say anything as I get in the car.

“Where do you live?”

I give Steve my mom’s address and tell him, “I’m surprised to see you on a Friday night without Tommy and Carol.”

“I kicked them out.” He sounds annoyed as he adds, “They were less than a minute away from screwing in the backseat.”

“Sounds just like them.”

Steve stares at me for a moment before asking, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” I tell him. But I’m not. I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened half an hour ago. I can’t stop thinking about everything that’s happened this week. And I’m pretty sure my hands are shaking as the reality of this whole thing sinks in. That’s when I realize that I don’t want to go home and sit alone, where I know I’ll do nothing but think. “This is going to sound weird,” I say after a moment. “But please tell me you have a fake ID.”

“Everyone has a fake ID.”

“I don’t.”

“There’s a surprise,” Steve says under his breath.

I sigh. “Forget I asked.” It’s probably better that I don’t get drunk anyway.

He looks at me. “What do you want?”

I don’t know much about alcohol. I try to stay away from it. Instead of admitting my lack of knowledge, I say, “Anything. Whatever can help me forget things that fastest.”

“What are you trying to forget?”

I laugh bitterly. Where would I even start with that? My dad’s death? The fact that I’m helping look for a kid who, despite the funeral for him this morning, might not be dead? The fact that I just saw a monster from another world? The fact that I was in another world? But I can’t say any of that, so I simply say, “It’s been a long week.” I look at him as I add, “I have money if that’s what you’re wondering. I just need someone to go in and buy it for me.”

Steve watches me before saying, “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll buy you whatever you want, but I get to drink it with you.”

“You want to get drunk together?” I ask in disbelief.

“You’re not the only one with problems.”

“What’s your problem?”

He seems to hesitate before saying, “Nancy and I broke up earlier today.”

I look at him. “Really?” A few hours ago, I thought I heard Nancy say ‘just because _I’m_ _dating_ Steve’, which isn’t normally something someone says after they’ve broken up with someone. But it’s possible that I misheard. I hadn’t really been paying attention.

Steve nods.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs. "It's not that big of a deal."

“Still, breaking up sucks.” I have no personal experience in the matter, but it’s not that hard to figure out that no one likes going through a break-up.

“You know, you still haven’t given me an answer.”

I think about it. Am I seriously so desperate to get drunk that I’m going to get drunk with Steve Harrington? After a moment, I look at him. “We have a deal.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting on my living room couch with a six-pack of beer between us. “You’re sure your mom isn’t coming back anytime soon?” Steve asks for the millionth time.

“I’m sure,” I say as I turn the tv on. I haven't seen my mom in weeks, and I would be shocked if she chose a Friday night to suddenly reappear. “Trust me, my mom isn’t going to be a problem.” I switch to MTV. Burning Up is playing, and I turn up the volume.

“You like Madonna?” Steve asks in disbelief.

“You sound surprised.”

“You just don’t seem like the kind of person who likes Madonna.”

I shrug. “Good music is good music. Genre doesn’t matter to me.”

“Listen,” Steve says quietly. "I know I already said it, but I’m sorry for what I said the other day. About you and Byers and... photoshoots."

I don't respond.

"I was just so mad," Steve continues. "I was trying to protect Nancy." He laughs bitterly. “It turns out she doesn’t need my protection.”

“Well,” I say as I open my beer. “It sounds like we both have a lot to forget about.”

When we’re done with the six-pack, Steve tells me, “I remember you from English, by the way. You sat next to Patrick Johnson, didn’t you?”

I nod. “I think he spent every second of English last year staring at my tits,” I say flatly.

“You had bangs back then, didn’t you?”

I laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not? You looked good with them.” Steve shrugs as he adds, “You look good without them, too. Really good.”

I look at him. “Are you flirting with me?” I’m kidding, for the most past.

But he says, “You could say that.”

I’m not sure how it happens, but next thing I know, we’re kissing. I’m surprised when I realize I’m not totally against the fact that we’re doing this. Actually, I’m not against doing this at all.

I’m pretty sure that I’m only doing this because I want to do something, _anything,_ to forget the fact that I could have died in another world a few hours ago. But at the moment, I don’t care why I’m doing it.

Steve pulls off my shirt, and only pulls away long enough to ask, “How far-”

“Whatever you want,” I tell him. “I don’t care.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” I say.

“What are you thinking about?”

“A lot of things,” I answer as I put my shirt on. I know that I’m overthinking. It’s a specialty of mine. I don’t regret what we just did, but it feels kind of wrong, knowing that Nancy and Steve _just_ broke up. I’m not stupid enough to think that this means anything. I’m not stupid enough to think that Steve is seriously interested in me. I know this is a one-time thing. But I still feel like I’m betraying Nancy somehow.

Before Steve can reply, I hear a car door slam outside. I get up and look out the window by the door. My mom’s car is in the driveway. I can’t help saying, “Shit.” Of all the times my mom could have decided to come home, it has to be tonight.

Steve turns around. “What?”

“You need to go,” I tell him. “My mom’s home.”

“Ok.”

He heads toward the front door and I ask, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“Not through there.” It’s a miracle that my mom hasn’t come in yet, and I’m pretty sure it’s because she is ridiculously drunk. Knowing her, she probably forgot where the front door is. And that gives me an idea. “I need you to go out through the back. The back door is in the kitchen and the gate is right there next to it. Just please make sure my mom doesn’t see you.” I don’t want to deal with my mom at all, so I don’t wait for Steve to respond before I go down the hall into my room.

I hear the backdoor close just before I close my bedroom door.


	11. Chapter 11

_November 12, 1983_

On Saturday morning, I wake up to the sound of the phone ringing and my mom yelling, “Sabrina! Answer the damn phone!”

I roll over and grab the phone on my nightstand. “Hello?”

“Sabrina.” It’s Nancy.

Everything from last night comes rushing back to me, and I feel a weird sense of guilt.

“Get ready,” She tells me. “Jonathan and I will be at your place in ten minutes.”

“Where are we going?”

The only thing Nancy says before hanging up is, “Monster hunting.”

I immediately get up and get dressed. I’m trying to quietly make my way to the front door when my mom, who’s smoking at the kitchen table, asks me where I’m going. “Out,” I say simply.

“Why didn’t you say hi to me last night?” She asks in a chirpy tone that usually comes before an insult.

“I was busy.”

“With what?”

“I was doing homework.”

My mom laughs. “Homework?”

“Why is that funny?”

“I know you were doing something other than homework.”

I sigh. And there’s the insult. “Thanks, Mom. That’s real nice,” I say drily. Then I ask, “You know Dad died, right?”

“Yeah, I heard on Tuesday.”

Tuesday. That was days ago. And I haven’t heard from her or seen her at all. “Thanks for calling to check up on me,” I say flatly as I walk out the front door. “I appreciate it.”

I wait outside for Nancy and Jonathan, and when I get in Jonathan’s car, I say, “Please tell me we don’t have to walk through the woods again. My feet are killing me.”

“We were barely out there for three hours last night,” Jonathan answers.

“Yeah, but I wore heels yesterday. You know, to the… thing.”

“You can say funeral,” Jonathan tells me. “It’s all right.”

“Ok. I wore heels to the funeral yesterday and I walked.”

“How come you don't have a license yet?" Nancy asks me. "I thought you turned sixteen in September."

“I did. And I do have a license. I just don’t have a car.”

“Well, we’re not walking through the woods again,” She tells me. “We have a plan. We’re going to kill this thing.”

If Nancy thinks I’m acting weird, she doesn’t say anything. I feel like I’m acting weird, but I know it’s probably just the guilt. I don’t know what I have to feel guilty about. I mean, Steve told me last night that he and Nancy broke up. It’s not like we did anything wrong. “Is this plan one that’s going to put us in even more danger than last night?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Awesome,” I say flatly. But then I say, “Let me hear it.”

Nancy starts telling me the plan she and Jonathan came up with, using a couple of theories they had. Even though the plan sounds crazy, I have the feeling that if her and Jonathan’s theories are right, this might work. But then she says, “And we think that we can use blood to lure this thing to us.”

“And where are we going to find blood?”

“You do know that people have blood in them, right?”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” I say slowly.

“Then problem solved.”

“You want us to cut ourselves?” I ask in disbelief.

“It doesn’t have to be a big cut. We only need a little blood.”

I look at Jonathan. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

“It’s the only one we have,” He says, echoing what I said yesterday.

I sigh as I sit back in my seat. He’s right.

Are they insane? Probably.

Am I? Probably.

Why else would we be doing any of this?

At the hunting supply store, we buy just about anything that looks like it could be useful. We have no idea what, if anything, can hurt the monster.

Nancy comes over to the aisle I’m in, holding a bear trap. “Holy shit,” I say when I see it. “That thing is as big as my head.”

“What do you think?” She asks.

“We’re definitely going to need that thing.”

We meet Jonathan by the front of the store, where the three of us set everything down on the counter. The cashier stares at us for a long moment before asking, "What are you kids doing with all this?"

Before I can say 'school project', which is my standard response whenever an adult asks me what I’m doing, Nancy answers with, "Monster hunting."

I can’t help snorting at that.

The guy stares at us for another moment before he shrugs and starts to scan everything.

Outside, we’re putting everything in the back of Jonathan’s car while Nancy talks about how trivial things had been just a week ago. “I spent all weekend with Barb, shopping for a top that I thought Steve would like,” She’s saying. “And now…” She trails off.

“And now you’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers and Sabrina Hammond?” Jonathan asks.

She nods.

I ask, “Which part of all this is the weirdest?”

Nancy glances at Jonathan. “Definitely him.”

Jonathan laughs as he puts the last of the stuff we bought in the car.

I look at Nancy. "I heard about the break-up," I tell her quietly. "I'm sorry." Despite last night’s events, I still can’t stand Steve. But for some reason, Nancy seems to really like him.

"We didn't break up,” She tells me.

That’s when I feel the dread hit. "You didn't?"

"No. When did you hear that?"

"Yesterday," I say slowly as I realize that Steve lied.

"Who told you we broke up?"

Before I can figure out how to answer that, Jonathan says, "I don't see the lighter fluid."

"I'll go check inside," I say quickly.

When I walk back into the store, the cashier holds the bottle out to me, saying, “Looks like you forgot this.”

“We did,” I say as I take the bottle. “Thanks.” When I come back outside, Nancy and Jonathan are gone, even though Jonathan’s car is still here. “What the hell?” I mutter. I look around, and see Jonathan down the street, going into an alley. I follow him.

Nancy is already halfway down the alley, standing in front of Steve. Carol, Tommy, and Nicole are all standing behind him. When Jonathan and I catch up to her, Tommy looks at Jonathan and laughs. “Speak of the devil.”

Steve looks at us. When his eyes land on me, something in his face changes. Only for a second, though. He doesn’t say anything, and even though I know he’s only protecting himself, I’m glad that he keeps his mouth shut about last night.

Nancy looks at us, at Jonathan, before turning back to Steve, who’s glaring at her. “You came by last night?” She guesses.

“Does she get a prize?” Carol asks.

Nancy ignores her and tells Steve, “Whatever you think you saw, it wasn’t like that.”

“Whatever you think you saw,” Nancy says. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What, you just let him in to _study?”_ Steve asks flatly.

That’s when I realize that Steve used me to get back at Nancy. Whether he’s planning on telling her or not, I don’t know. And I’m not sure which of those scenarios makes things worse. I already feel like a horrible person, and I don’t know whether Nancy knowing about what happened would make things better or worse.

“No.” Nancy shakes her head. “We were just-” She cuts herself off, deciding not to say whatever she was going to.

“Go ahead, finish your sentence,” Steve tells her. “You were just what?”

Nancy doesn’t say anything.

“Finish your sentence,” He says slowly. As he glares at Nancy, I can’t stop thinking about what a hypocrite he is. But I can’t say anything about it. Not without telling Nancy, and everyone else, about last night.

“You know, I was worried about you,” Steve snaps at her. He’s quiet as he adds, “To think that I was actually worried about you.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything as she stares at him.

“Go to hell, Nancy.”

“Come on,” Jonathan says, grabbing Nancy’s arm.

As the three of us silently walk away, I’m stupid enough to think that we’re going to get out of here without any more trouble. But we only get a few feet before Steve decides that he isn’t ready to let things go after all. “You know, Byers,” He says. “I’m actually impressed.”

“Shut up, Steve,” Nancy snaps.

Steve ignores her and tells Jonathan, “I always took you for a queer.”

Jonathan stops walking, and Nancy tells him, “Leave it.”

“Let it go,” I tell him. We don’t have time to deal with Steve right now. As much as I would love to see Steve finally get what’s coming to him, we don’t have time for that. We have more important things to deal with.

Steve is still talking to Jonathan. “You’re a screw-up,” He says. “You’re a screw-up like your father. That house is full is screw-ups. You know, I’m not really surprised about what happened to your brother.”

“Leave it,” Nancy says to Jonathan again.

I look back at Steve. “You need to stop talking,” I warn him. Forget what I said earlier about not having time to watch Jonathan fight Steve. _I_ am ready to hit him again. Breaking my other hand would be worth it just to shut him up.

Steve glares at me. “You’re still defending him, huh?” He turns his attention back to Jonathan. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but your family is a disgrace-” He only stops talking when Jonathan turns around and punches him. He stares at Jonathan for a moment before tackling him, pushing him onto the hood of the car behind them.

Nancy is yelling at them to stop, but I just stand there watching. Personally, I think that Steve deserves to get beat up, just for what he said about Jonathan’s family if nothing else. And right now, it looks like Jonathan is winning.

I hear the sirens go off once as a police car pulls into the alley.

"Shit, cops!" Tommy cries. "Go." He pushes Carol toward the other end of the alley.

This is not good. I’m trying to start the emancipation process. The judge will never approve it if I get arrested. But there’s nowhere else for me to go. So, I stand there with Nancy as we watch Jonathan get arrested while Steve and Tommy run off.

When we get to the police station, Jonathan is led down the hall, and Nancy and I are left by ourselves in the front room. “We were just talking,” Nancy says quietly. I look at her as she adds, “Last night.”

I don’t respond. I believe her, but at the same time, I can’t blame Steve for being suspicious. He’s definitely an asshole, but it’s obvious that Jonathan and Nancy are into each other.

“I thought Steve was different,” She tells me.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. I’m sorry for more than I can tell her. And I tell myself that once this is over, once we find Will and Barb, I’ll tell Nancy about what happened last night.

Jonathan is brought back out, and Hopper’s secretary sits him down at the table Nancy and I are sitting at.

While Jonathan had clearly been winning the fight with Steve, I can now see that Steve still managed to hit Jonathan a few times. Nancy looks at his face and says, “I’m going to see if I can find some ice for that.”

When she follows Hopper’s secretary down the hall, Jonathan tells me, “Steve has no idea what he’s talking about. Nothing happened with Nancy and me.”

“It’s not my business,” I say with a shrug.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But it’s obvious what you’re thinking.”

“I believe you guys, and what Steve did was fucked up, but we can all see that you and Nancy are totally into each other.”

“We’re not.”

I shrug. “Like I said, it’s not my business.”

We’re at the police station for a while before Hopper comes in. And when he does, Mrs. Byers is with him. When Mrs. Byers sees that Jonathan is in handcuffs, she looks at the cop who’s supposed to be watching us, and demands, “Take those off of him.”

“Ma’am, I can’t do that-”

“Take them off!”

“Ma’am, he assaulted a police officer-”

But Hopper says, “You heard her. Take them off.”

“Uh, Chief, there’s something you should see first,” One of the other cops says.

Nancy, Jonathan, and I all glance at each other. I seriously hope they didn’t go through Jonathan’s car.

A moment later, they set everything we bought at the hunting supply store on the table in front of us.

Hopper looks at us. “What the hell are you guys doing with all of this?”

“You went through my car?” Jonathan asks.

“You are in no position to be asking questions right now,” Hopper tells him. When none of us say anything, he turns to me. “Sabrina?”

The three of us look at each other again.

“You won’t believe us,” I answer after a moment.

“Why don’t you give me a try?”


	12. Chapter 12

In Hopper’s office, he and Mrs. Byers listen as Nancy, Jonathan, and I tell them everything we know. Jonathan even shows them the picture we have of it standing behind Barb. When we’re done talking, all Hopper says as he stares at the picture is, “And you say blood draws this thing?”

“It’s just a theory,” Nancy answers quietly.

Mrs. Byers and Jonathan go out into the hallway, and Nancy and I stay in Hopper’s office.

“So, what do we do?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” He says with a sigh. “This is… This is a lot.” He looks at me and asks, “What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I dunno,” I say with a shrug. It’s the best answer I can come up with. I _had_ been thinking that we were going to kill this monster, but thinking about it now, it sounds kind of stupid.

There’s shouting coming from somewhere else in the building, and Hopper tells Nancy and me, “You two stay here.”

He leaves, and Nancy looks at me. “You two know each other?”

“He and my dad are friends.” I’m quiet as I correct myself with, “I mean, they _were.”_

“I know I already said it, but I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks.”

“So, now you’re living with your mom, right?”

“Hopefully I won’t be for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m trying to get emancipated. I cannot take another two years of… of everything with my mom.”

Before Nancy can respond, Hopper comes back in and tells her, “We need to find your brother.”

“I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “Let me make sure I understand. You’re saying this girl can control things with her mind?”

“That’s how I understand it,” Hopper answers.

“And Mike knows her?” Nancy asks in disbelief.

We’re all in Jonathan’s car, on the way to the Wheeler house. Hopper just finished telling us about the trip he and Mrs. Byers took this morning to see a woman named Terry Ives, who claims that her daughter, who supposedly has psychic powers, was taken by Hawkins Lab. And now Hopper has a report of a young girl who broke a kid’s arm with her mind. And this girl is supposedly friends with Nancy’s younger brother Mike.

When we pull onto the Wheeler’s street, we can see that there are a bunch of cars in front of the Wheeler house, and a bunch of people are going in and out of the house. “Shit,” Hopper says under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Nancy asks.

Hopper stops the car a few houses down from the Wheeler’s. “We’re too late.”

Nancy immediately gets out of the car, and Hopper follows her. He grabs her arm and stops her, telling her, “You do _not_ want them to know that you’re involved in this.”

I stop listening to what they’re saying when I see a gray-haired man in a suit and tie on the Wheeler’s front lawn, talking to two men who are also wearing suits. “That’s Dr. Brenner,” I say.

Mrs. Byers looks at me. “You know Dr. Brenner?”

“He came to my house on Thursday night,” I explain. I look at Jonathan and add, “It was a few minutes after you dropped me off.”

“What did he want?” Mrs. Byers asks.

“He told me to stop trying to find out what happened to my dad. And I think he was following me for a few days before that.” But if he has been since then, I haven’t noticed.

Before Mrs. Byers can say anything, Hopper and Nancy get back in the car. “Do you have any idea where he might be?” He asks Nancy.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Come on. _Any_ place you can think of where they might hide.”

Nancy throws up her hands. “I don’t know,” She cries. “We haven’t talked a lot lately.”

“I think I might know,” Jonathan says suddenly.

We all look at him.

“I don’t know where they are,” He clarifies. “But I think I know how we can ask.”

On our way to the Byers house, I tell everyone about my encounter with Dr. Brenner the other night.

“So, you didn’t say anything when you knew that someone was following you, and then after he showed up at your house, you still didn’t say anything?” Hopper asks me.

“I didn’t know for sure that he was following me until he showed up at my house,” I answer. “And then when he came to my house, he threatened me.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He said that if I don’t mind my own business, I would end up with people thinking that I killed myself just like my dad.” I hesitate before saying, “He said ‘just like my dad’ and not ‘just like my dad _did.’_ Doesn’t that sound kind of weird to you?”

“I think your dad’s death might have been connected to this,” Hopper tells me. “I just don’t know how yet.”

We get to the Byers house, and we all go into Will’s room, where we’re trying to find Will’s walkie-talkie. Mrs. Byers finds it under the bed, and Nancy takes it. “Mike,” She says. “Are you there?”

Nothing.

“Mike,” She tries again. “Are you there? It’s an emergency. Please pick up.”

When there still isn’t any response, Hopper grabs the walkie-talkie from Nancy. “Listen, kid, this is Chief Hopper. We know about the girl, and we want to help you. If you’re there, you’ve gotta pick up. We can help you, we can keep you safe.”

We wait in silence for a long moment, and nothing happens. Hopper sighs and is about to put the walkie-talkie on the dresser when a voice comes through. “We’re here.”


	13. Chapter 13

It gets dark before Hopper comes back with the younger kids. Nancy, Jonathan, Mrs. Byers, and I are all waiting anxiously in the living room, which is covered in Christmas lights. The whole house is covered in Christmas lights.

No one is talking about the Christmas lights.

My curiosity finally takes over and my manners disappear. I gesture around the room and ask no one in particular, “What’s all this about?”

“I’ve been using the lights to talk to Will,” Mrs. Byers tells me.

“And it works?”

She nods.

“And this back here?” I ask, pointing to the letters she’d painted on the wall.

“So he can spell words out.”

I have to admit, it’s not the worst idea I’ve heard today. Or at all this past week.

Headlights come through the window then, and we all jump up. Hopper is back.

Outside, Nancy runs to hug her brother. “Mike,” She cries. “I was so worried about you.”

He stands there with a confused look on his face for a second before slowly saying, “Uh, yeah. Me too.”

I look past the two of them, to where the other kids are standing. I recognize the two boys from Will’s funeral, but there’s a girl with them who I’ve never seen in a blonde wig and a pink dress.

Nancy pulls away from Mike and studies the girl for a moment before asking, “Is that my dress?”

“This is Eleven,” Mike tells all of us. “But we call her El for short.”

“There’s a lot we have to tell you,” One of the other kids says.

We all sit in the living room while the younger kids try to explain what they know. Nancy’s brother Mike has a piece of paper with some lines and dots on it, and he’s talking about fleas, acrobats, and gates. None of it makes much sense to me, and Mrs. Byers, Jonathan, and Nancy all look as confused as I feel.

“We tracked it to Hawkins Lab,” Lucas tells us, referring to this Gate.

“Using our compasses,” Dustin adds.

“I think the compasses just make things more confusing,” I say after a moment of silence.

He sighs. “Ok, so the Gate has a really strong electromagnetic field. And that can change the direction of a compass needle.”

Hopper, who’s been quiet for a while, asks, “Is this Gate underground?”

Eleven looks at him. “Yes.”

“Near a large water tank?”

“Yes,” She says again.

“How did you know all that?” Dustin asks.

“He’s seen it,” Mike says quietly.

“Is there any way that you could reach Will?” Mrs. Byers asks Eleven. “Is there any way you could talk to him in this-”

“The Upside Down.”

“The Upside Down,” Mrs. Byers repeats.

Eleven nods.

“And my friend Barabra,” Nancy says. “Can you find her, too?”

She nods again.

We all move into the kitchen, where Eleven sits at the table with a walkie-talkie in front of her. We wait for a few minutes, listening to the static coming through as Eleven searches for Will and Barb. The lights flicker, and Eleven opens her eyes, looking at Mrs. Byers. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Byers asks. “What happened?”

Eleven is almost in tears as she answers, “I can’t find them.”

No one says anything. No one knows what to do. No one has been through anything like this before, and it makes everything even harder. My question, the question that I know no one wants to be asking, is how are we going to get Barb and Will out of the Upside Down even if they are alive? And how are we going to deal with the monster and Hawkins Lab?

Even if we can get Will and Barb back, there are still a million other things we have to deal with.

Eleven goes into the bathroom, and Mike, Dustin, and Lucas tell the rest of us about how her powers are drained and that we have to wait for them to recharge. We’re still talking when she comes back into the kitchen, saying, “The bath.”

We all turn toward her.

“What?” Mrs. Byers asks.

“I can find them. In the bath.” She explains that in Hawkins Lab she was put in a water tank sometimes while using her powers and that that’s where she was when she opened the Gate.

“It’s a sensory deprivation tank,” Hopper tells the rest of us.

“All we have to do is fill up the bathtub and turn the lights off, right?” I ask.

“There’s more to it than that.”

“And how do you know all this, again?”

“I read about it in a newspaper article about Hawkins Lab.”

“So, how do we make one of these things?” Nancy asks slowly.

“I know who we can call,” Dustin says. He looks at Mrs. Byers. “Where’s your phonebook?”

She goes to get it, and Hopper asks Dustin, “Who are you calling?”

“Mr. Clarke.”

“Who?”

“Our science teacher,” Mike explains.

Mrs. Byers brings over the phonebook, and Dustin flips through it until he finds the number he’s looking for. “Let me do the talking,” He tells us as he starts dialing the phone.

No one argues, but I see Mike and Lucas roll their eyes.

“Mr. Clarke,” Dustin says after a moment. “It’s Dustin… Yeah, yeah. I just- I have uh, a science question. Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks? Specifically how to build one?” There’s a long pause before Dustin simply says, “Fun.” His tone turns accusatory as he says, “You say we should always be curious. To open any curiosity door we find. Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?” After a moment, he says, “Let me get something to write with.”

Mrs. Byers goes to find a pencil and a piece of paper.

Dustin sits down and begins writing whatever Mr. Clarke is telling him. After a few minutes, hangs up and looks at Mrs. Byers. “Do you still have that kiddie-pool we bobbed for apples in?”

Mrs. Byers looks confused, but she says, “I think so, yeah.”

“Good,” Dustin says. “Then we just need salt. And lots of it.”

“How much is ‘lots’?” Hopper asks.

Dustin glances down at the paper. “Fifteen hundred pounds.”

Is he kidding?

“Where are we going to get that much salt?” Nancy asks.

“I know where,” Hopper says after a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the lack of updates lately! My A/C stopped working last week, and since I live in Las Vegas and melt in any weather over 75 degrees, getting the A/C fixed was my first priority (and it took a ridiculously long time). But everything seems to be fixed, so hopefully, I can get back to regular updates.


	14. Chapter 14

We end up at the middle school, which is where Hawkins’s supply of de-icing salt is stored. Jonathan and Hopper take care of gathering the salt while Lucas and Dustin set up the kiddie-pool in the gym. Nancy and Mike go to find hoses to fill the pool with, and Eleven tells Mrs. Byers and me that she needs to find a way to block out all the light.

“Would goggles work?” I ask her.

She looks at me. “Goggles?”

“They cover your eyes. They’re see-through but we could probably cover them with something. I know where the science lab is. They have tons of goggles.”

“Let’s see if that will work,” Mrs. Byers says.

As we walk through the halls, Eleven stares at me for a moment before asking, “Your name is Hammond?”

“Yeah, my last name. Why?”

“Did you know Benny?”

I look at her. “He was my dad. How did you know him?”

“He tried to help me. He was nice. He said he had a daughter.” She’s quiet for a moment before adding, “I’m sorry.”

I don’t say anything as I slowly realize what she means. Suddenly, I remember something Hopper told me. That the day my dad died, a young boy had been caught trying to steal food from the diner. With the shaved head, I can see how it would be easy for someone to mistake El as a boy. Especially if they didn’t see her up close. “The science labs are at the end of the hall on the left,” I tell Mrs. Byers. “I have to go find Hopper.”

I find Hopper in the hallway outside the gym, and I ask him, “Did you know Eleven was the kid in my dad’s restaurant? The day he died?”

He seems to hesitate for a moment before admitting, “I had a feeling she was.”

“They killed him,” I say quietly.

“Who?”

“Hawkins Lab. Because he was trying to help her.”

“It’s not her fault.”

“I don’t think it is. I don’t blame her for this at all. The only people I blame are the people who work in the Lab. Eleven is a victim just as much as my dad. Will and Barb, too. They’re all victims.” I'm quiet for a moment before asking, “They’re going to get in trouble, right? I mean, they can’t get away with all this.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Hopper tells me. “They’re military. And that makes it harder for me to do anything about it.”

“But you’re the chief of the Hawkins police. And this is in Hawkins. They have to listen to you.”

“They’re military,” He says again. “They outrank the cops.”

Even though Hopper doesn’t say the words, I know his meaning: They’re going to get away with all of this.

It takes a while for us to create our version of a sensory deprivation tank. The conditions have to be perfect, and it takes a lot of work. But eventually, we have everything right.

Eleven puts on the goggles Mrs. Byers covered in duct tape, and she gets in the pool. We’re all quiet as she floats in the pool. Then she says, “Barbara?” After a moment, she takes a sharp breath, and the lights in the gym turn off.

Nancy looks around. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Mike answers.

“Is Barb ok?” Nancy asks, sounding panicked. “Is she ok?”

The only thing Eleven says is, “God.” She keeps repeating it in a shaky voice, louder every time she speaks.

I don’t know what she’s seeing, but I know it can’t be good. And from the look on Nancy’s face, she knows it, too.

“It’s ok,” Joyce tells her. “It’s ok, sweetie. We’re right here with you. I’ve got you.” She keeps repeating it until Eleven calms down.

“Castle Byers,” Eleven says quietly. “Will.”

“Tell him I’m coming,” Mrs. Byers says in a shaky voice. “Mom is coming.”

A voice comes through the walkie-talkie behind Hopper. “Hurry.”

“You- You tell him to stay where he is. We’re coming. We’re coming, ok? We’re coming.”

Static comes through the walkie-talkie a moment before Eleven sits up, taking the goggles off and looking like she’s about to freak out.

I wonder what she saw. The things Nancy and I saw for the few minutes we were in the Upside Down were bad enough, and I can’t imagine what Eleven must have seen to get those reactions. Even though we need her help to get Will back, I still feel bad for everything we’re putting her through with this.

Mrs. Byers wraps her arms around a shaking El, and keeps telling her, “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”


	15. Chapter 15

A few minutes later, I’m sitting with the younger kids on the bleachers. Eleven is wrapped in a towel, and she looks like she’s completely drained. Hopper is talking to Mrs. Byers and Jonathan when he suddenly turns and walks out of the gym. Jonathan and Mrs. Byers follow him.

Dustin is sitting next to me and asks, "How did you break your arm?"

"It's my hand," I tell him. "I punched someone."

"Did you win?"

"It wasn't a fight," I answer. "Just one hit. And judging by the cast on my arm, I think it's safe to say that I didn't win."

"Who did you hit?"

"It was Steve Harrington," Lucas asks. “Right?”

I look at him. "How did you know?"

"Some kids in my math class were talking about it. One of their brothers is on the basketball team with Steve."

"Well, Steve Harrington is a douchebag,” Dustin says.

I laugh. "Tell me about it." Then I look at Eleven, who still isn’t looking much better, and ask her, “Does eating help you… recharge?”

She only shrugs.

“Well, I’m going to see what the vending machine has,” I say. I haven’t eaten anything at all today, and it seems like we still have a long way to go before this is over. I get up and ask, “Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll take some chocolate pudding,” Dustin tells me.

I look at him. “I meant from the vending machine.”

“The vending machine is in the cafeteria. Just look in the kitchen.”

“I’m not robbing the cafeteria,” I say as I walk out of the gym. Nancy and Jonathan are out in the hallway, and as they walk over, I tell Nancy, “I’m sorry about Barb.”

“Thanks,” She says quietly.

“My mom and Hopper left,” Jonathan tells me. “And we’re going to the police station.”

“Why?”

Nancy sounds more determined than ever when she says, “We’re going to kill the monster.”

“Maybe I should stay here with the kids,” I suggest. I was never too excited about the idea of trying to get the Demogorgon to come to us. Besides that, I don’t think we should leave the kids alone. This seems like the safest place right now, but the people from Hawkins Lab are still looking for Eleven.

“You’re sure?”

I nod. It’s the only thing I’ve been sure about this week.

“Ok. Keep them safe, all right?”

“I will. And you guys be careful.” Even though I don’t say so, I still feel like this plan of theirs can go horribly wrong.

Nancy and Jonathan leave, and I go back into the gym. “So, I guess I’m in charge,” I announce. “And we’re going to stay here and stay safe. It’s not up for discussion.”

“Where is everyone else?” Mike asks.

“Hopper and Mrs. Byers left, although I didn’t ask where they went. And Nancy and Jonathan are going after the monster.”

“Demogorgon,” Eleven corrects.

“Yeah, sure.”

“You didn’t try to stop them?” Lucas asks.

“They have a plan,” I say simply.

That’s when Dustin asks, “Can we go to the cafeteria?”

I shrug. “I guess.” I still need to go to the vending machine, and Dustin can look for his pudding.

“You just said we’re supposed to stay here,” Mike reminds me.

“We’re supposed to stay here at the school,” I say. “And the cafeteria is part of the school.”

He doesn’t argue, and the five of us leave for the cafeteria.

In the cafeteria, I decide that there’s nothing good in the vending machine, and go into the kitchen to help Dustin and Lucas look for the pudding. Dustin keeps insisting that the lunch lady is hiding all the pudding, and lies when she says there isn’t any extra.

When I walk into the kitchen, Lucas and Dustin are each holding a box. “Pudding?” I ask.

“Yep,” Dustin said. “I knew we’d find it. Come on.”

We go back out to the cafeteria, and El is sitting alone at one of the tables. “Where did Mike go?” I ask. He was here a second ago, and I don’t need to lose any of the kids.

“Nancy came back.”

“Really?” It’s barely been ten minutes. I wonder if she and Jonathan forgot something.

“What’s that?” She asks, looking at the boxes Lucas and Dustin set on the table.

“It’s the chocolate pudding,” Dustin says. “This will charge your battery right up.”

“Guys!” Mike cries, running back into the cafeteria.

I look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“They found us,” He says breathlessly.

“What?”

“The bad men. They’re here.”

Shit. “Let’s go. If we make it to the back of the school, we can sneak out. Go through the woods.”

“How did they find us?” Lucas asks as we hurry through the halls.

“Lando,” Dustin says.

I have no idea what that means, but now isn’t the time to ask.

“I don’t know,” Mike answers. “But they knew we were in the gym.”

I can’t help asking him, “Then I guess it’s a good thing we left the gym, isn’t it?”

That’s when a group of men in military uniforms comes around the corner. They’re all holding guns.

“Go!” We all start shouting at each other as we turn around. But we only get a few feet before more guys come at us from the other end of the hall. We try another way, but another group comes around the corner. This group is led by a woman, who aims her gun at Eleven.

We’re surrounded.

El stares at the group in front of us, and after a moment they all start bleeding from their eyes. When I look at the soldiers who came from the other direction, they are too. Suddenly, everyone from the Lab collapses. Eleven collapses a second later, I’m assuming from completely draining herself.

Mike gets on the floor next to her. “Are you ok?” When she doesn’t respond, he shouts, “El?”

“She’s just drained,” I tell him, bending down on the other side of her.

“She won’t wake up.” He tries shaking her awake. “El!”

“Just give her a minute.”

“She’s barely breathing,” He argues.

I realize that he’s right.

“We’ve gotta go,” Lucas warns us.

“We have to carry her,” I tell them. “We’ll figure out the rest once we’re somewhere safe.”

But before any of us can do anything, a man says, “Leave her.” When we look his way, I realize that it’s Dr. Brenner. “Step away from the child,” He tells us.

The four of us stand up, and I tell him, “We’re not leaving her.”

“You want her?” Mike asks him. “You’ll have to kill us first.”

“That’s right,” Dustin says.

“Eat shit!” Lucas yells.

More men come up behind us and grab us, pulling us away from Eleven. We all fight. I can’t let this happen. I can’t. Too many bad things have happened already. We’ve all risked our lives in one way or another, and I can’t let things end this way. We’ve come too far to give up now.

Brenner gets down on the ground and pulls El into a sitting position. “Eleven. Eleven, can you hear me?”

She opens her eyes. “Papa?” She mumbles.

“Yes,” Brenner says. “Yes, it’s your papa. I’m here now.”

Eleven looks around, making small whimpering sounds.

“You’re sick,” Brenner tells her. “You’re sick, but I’m going to make you better. I’m going to take you back home where I can make you well again. We can make all of this better so that no one else gets hurt.”

I don’t believe that for a second. If Eleven goes with him, I fully believe that he’s going to kill her.

El stares at him for a long moment before mumbling, “Bad.”

Brenner stares at her, probably realizing that whatever hold he had over her a week ago, it’s gone now.

“Bad,” She says again, before turning to Mike. “Mike,” She pleads, reaching toward him.

Then the lights start flashing.

And that’s when I realize how much blood there is everywhere. “We have to get out of here,” I say. But we have nowhere to go.

The wall at the end of the hallway starts to crumble outward, and the Demogorgon bursts through.

“Demogorgon,” Dustin says flatly.

The men holding onto us immediately let go, reaching for their guns. There’s a short moment before they start shooting. A moment in which I give the kids one command: “Run.”

They reach down to grab Eleven, and I get down on the floor, grabbing the pistol off one of the men Eleven already killed. I hold it in my right hand, trying to get a proper grip on it. It feels weird in my right hand, but I know I can’t hold it, let alone fire it, in my left hand. I have a finger on the trigger as I turn the safety off. If I need to use this, I’m not going to have time to mess with the safety.

The kids run past me, and when I stand up to follow them, I realize that the Demogorgon is only a few feet away from me. There’s one person between the Demogorgon and me, and that is _way_ too close for comfort. I aim the gun and pull the trigger, hitting it in the shoulder. It barely reacts to the bullet, and shrieks as it hits the guy between us with one of its arms. The guy slams back into me, and we both go down.

That’s the last thing I remember before everything goes black.


	16. Chapter 16

When I wake up, the hallway is empty. I mean, other than all the dead bodies around me. The lights have stopped flashing, and it’s quiet. I try to push myself off the floor, but there’s a shooting pain in my right arm. I roll over onto my back and turn my head to the right. I’m wearing a long sleeve shirt, but the sleeve on my right arm is in shreds. What’s left of it is soaked in blood. But underneath the bloody fabric, I can see three scratches on my upper arm. They look deep, and they start near my shoulder, almost on my back, and curve around my upper arm, ending near my inner-elbow.

I move my left hand to touch the wounds and suck in a sharp breath at the pain. My hand comes away covered in blood. I can’t think very well, and I start to wonder how much of the blood on the floor is mine. There’s so much that it’s hard to tell what’s coming from who.

“Eleven!” Someone yells in this distance.

“El!”

The shouting comes closer as a third voice yells, “El, where are you?”

“Hey.” I try to shout, but it comes out weakly. “Hey,” I try again.

“Sabrina?”

“Over here.”

The boys come running over to me as I sit up. It takes more effort than it should, making me realize just how weak I am. I decide that a lot of blood on the floor must be mine.

“What happened?” Dustin asks me.

“I don’t know.” At the moment, I can’t remember anything about what happened after the people from Hawkins Lab found us in the hallway. I can’t remember how I got these wounds or if I was even awake for it, but they look like the Demogorgon did this. I can’t imagine what else would have. I wonder why it didn’t kill me when everyone else in the hallway is dead. I hear Mike yelling for Eleven again, and I ask, “Where is she?”

“She’s gone,” Lucas says. “She disappeared when she killed the Demogorgon.”

I nod, and the movement makes the room spin. “I need you guys to do something for me.”

“What?”

I want to tell them to call nine-one-one, but before I can, I lose my grip on consciousness.


	17. Chapter 17

_November 13, 1983_

When I wake up, the sun is coming through the window. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that I’m in the hospital. I look around, taking in the smell of disinfectant, the beeping of the machines, the sling my right arm is in, and the bandage wrapped around it. But the most shocking thing is the sight of my mom sitting in a chair next to my bed.

_I’ve gotta be high right now._

My mom glares at me. “Excuse me?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes.”

“Oops.” I’m not about to apologize. I already know why my mom is here, and it’s not because she’s worried about me.

Sure enough, my mom says, “This is your second time in the hospital in less than a week.”

“It was outpatient for this,” I say, holding up my left arm.

“Do you have any idea how much those bills are going to be?”

“I have health insurance.”

“Since when?”

“Since always,” I say with a shrug. “Dad paid for it.” I look at my mom. “I don’t suppose you’ll be footing the bill for that.”

“I don’t see why I’d start now.”

I sigh. “And that’s why I’m trying to get emancipated.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m going to live on my own. You won’t have any parental rights.”

“You think you can survive without me?” My mom asks in disbelief.

“I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember. Besides, let’s be honest here. You don’t want to take care of me. You never have.”

“Well,” My mom says slowly. “If that’s how you want things to be, don’t bother coming home once you get out of here. I’m going home, and I’ll be calling someone to change the locks immediately. You can try to survive on your own for a few days, and you’ll see very quickly how good you have it with me.”

“Sounds good,” I say flatly.

She doesn’t say anything as she walks out of the room.

It’s almost four o’clock when Hopper comes into my room. “How are you feeling?” He asks me.

“I feel like shit. I lost a third of my blood and got ninety-two stitches in what was my only good arm. Oh, and my mom kicked me out. So along with everything else, it’s safe to say that this has officially been the worst week of my life.” I pause for a moment before adding, “And I guess this morphine also acts as some type of truth-serum.”

“You better watch what you say,” Hopper warns me. “Because two guys from Hawkins Lab are in the elevator right now. They’re here to talk to you.”

“Tell them I’m not interested.”

“They’re going to make you sign papers, Sabrina. Everyone else had to do it last night.”

“I’m not going to do it.”

“It’s not optional.”

Before I can argue further, two men in suits and ties walk into the room. "We're going to need you to tell us everything you know." One of them tells me as they close the door.

“I guess you guys aren’t much for small talk.”

Neither of them say anything as they stare at me.

"Ok." I lean back against my pillow. "I know that a child you've been doing experiments on for over ten years escaped from the Lab. I know that she opened a portal to another world and accidentally let some kind of monster through. I know that Will Byers was taken by that monster and that you guys faked his death. I know that when my dad found the girl and tried to help her, you guys killed him. I know that Barbara Holland was taken by that monster as well. And I know that you assholes are unfortunately going to get away with all of it." When the men look at each other, I can't help asking, "Is that the answer that you guys are looking for?"

“She’s on a lot of morphine,” Hopper tells them. “She wouldn’t be talking to you like that if she wasn’t.”

I look at him. “Who cares how I talk to them? Seriously, fuck these guys.”

“Sabrina.”

I look at the two men. “Please forgive my behavior,” I say flatly. “The morphine makes me extra honest.”

“We’ll let it go for now,” One of the men tells me. He hands me a stack of papers as he adds, “Provided that you give us our word that you won’t tell anyone about this.”

I don’t take the papers. Instead, I cross my arms. “No.” I’m not going to keep quiet about any of this.

“Sabrina,” Hopper warns again.

“Ms. Hammond, we’re not asking,” The second man tells me.

“You’ve ruined a lot of lives, including mine. I’m not signing anything.”

The first man looks me in the eye as he says, “If you do not sign these papers, your life is forfeit.”

“Even if I wanted to sign, which I don’t, I don’t have the medical clearance to do so. I had surgery under anesthesia less than forty-eight hours ago. Besides that, I physically can’t sign anything. I can’t use either of my hands.”

“We’ll allow Chief Hopper to sign the papers for you.”

“That’s illegal,” I say simply.

“We’re willing to make an exception considering the circumstances.”

I know that Hawkins Lab will kill me if I don’t sign these papers. And I know that they’ll get away with it just like they’re getting away with everything else. They’re going to get away with everything whether I sign the papers or not. So I look at Hopper and say, “Sign my name on whatever they want.”

The men leave almost immediately after the papers are signed, but Hopper stays behind. I look at him and ask, “How can we let them get away with all this?”

“I wish we didn’t have to.”

“But you’re the chief of police. There has to be something you can do.”

“I already told you that I don’t have that kind of power.”

I can’t help myself as I mumble, “Nothing about this is fair.”

“Well, at least it’s over.”

He’s right. That’s the only good thing about all this. It’s over, and we survived.

…Well, most of us did, anyway.

“Do you think Eleven is ok?” I ask quietly. I shrug as I add, “I mean, I know she just… disappeared. But I’d like to think that there’s at least one thing to be hopeful about.”

“Well, if there’s anything I’ve learned this week, it’s that anything is possible,” Hopper tells me.

“I can’t argue with that.”

Hopper watches me for a second before asking, “Where are you going once you get out of here?”

“I don’t know. But they said I can probably get out of here tomorrow, so I have until then to figure it out.”

“Why don’t you stay with me until you figure it out? Or until you can use one of your arms again.”

“I can technically use my right one,” I say. “I’m just not supposed to.” And it hurts when I do. I shrug as I say, “And don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.”

“Sabrina, you need help right now.”

“I’ll be ok.”

“You have no place to stay, no job, and you can barely use either of your arms. Just let me help you.”

“My mom kicked me out because she wants me to see that I could have things worse,” I say slowly. “And I know that things could be so much worse. I really do. But I also know that things could be better. And I don’t want to wait. I _can’t_ wait. I’m worried that if I have to wait two years until I turn eighteen to get out of there, I’m going to turn into my mom. I’m going to be angry and bitter like her. And I don’t want that. I just want to get out of that house and move on with my life. But if I have to stay with you on my first night out of here, then maybe she’s right. Maybe I won’t be able to do things on my own.”

“Sabrina,” Hopper says patiently. “You need help. Your mom is the one who’s supposed to help you. But since she’s not going to, I am. It’s ok to admit that you need help. Besides, it’s only temporary. Once you decide what to do, I know that you’re going to be just fine on your own.”

“Ok,” I say after a moment. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so a few days ago I updated the tags for this story, and I don't know how it happened, but for some reason after that the chapters were all out of order and it looks some drafted chapters that shouldn't have been posted were? I only noticed it last night, but it looks like I fixed everything. So, yeah.


	18. Chapter 18

_November 15, 1983_

On Tuesday afternoon, I’m sitting in Hopper’s living room, watching tv. I’m sitting on the couch that’s going to technically be my bed for the next two weeks until I can get my stitches removed and start using my right arm fully again. After that, I’m moving into my dad’s house. It was paid off years ago and he left everything to me.

Someone knocks on the door, and I shout, “It’s open.” Even opening doors is too hard for me right now. When Steve walks in, I ask, “How the hell did you know I’m staying here?” I haven’t told anyone where I am. I’m not exactly in the mood to see people.

“I went to your house. Your mom told me you’d be here.”

I have no idea how my mom knows I’m here. I only got out of the hospital last night, and I haven’t talked to her since she kicked me out. But I guess how she knows doesn’t matter. “Whatever you want, I’m not in the mood,” I tell him. “This past week has kind of sucked.”

“You’re mad at me too?”

“What did you expect?”

“Look, I know that I’m an idiot, but-”

“Admitting that you have a problem is the first step,” I say drily.

“We need to talk, Sabrina.”

I know he’s right. “Fine,” I say with a sigh. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he asks, “How’s your arm?”

“Which one?” I ask bitterly.

He shrugs. “Either.”

I hold up my left hand as I say, “This one hasn’t hurt since Friday, but my right one is killing me.”

“I guess getting it torn open will do that to you.”

“I guess so,” I agree.

Hopper told me that Steve knows about everything that happened, that he fought the Demogorgon at the Byers house. But Steve doesn’t bring that stuff up, and neither do I. I’m not ready to talk about any of it. I’m not sure if I ever will be. I just wish that I could stop thinking about it.

I study Steve’s face. Jonathan did even more damage than I realized. “How’s your face?” I ask.

“It still hurts a little.” He shrugs as he adds, “But I deserved it.”

I can’t argue with that. But I know this isn’t what he came here to talk about, and I ask, “Why are you here?”

“Look,” Steve says carefully. “What happened the other night-”

“Was a mistake,” I finish for him. “Right? And you’d appreciate it if I don’t tell Nancy, or anyone else, what happened?”

He sighs. “It’s not you, Sabrina. It’s nothing against you. Nancy and I had a misunderstanding, and yes, I made a mistake.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“It has nothing to do with you. I made a mistake by cheating on Nancy.”

“You were using me to get back at her,” I say flatly.

"Look, I messed up. I know that. And I’m sorry."

“You cheated on Nancy. And then you called her a slut.”

“I don’t get it,” Steve says slowly. “Why is that the part that bothers you so much?”

“Because you used me to do it. I mean, I knew this was a one-time thing. I wasn't expecting anything. Honestly, with the way I was feeling that night, I would have done it with anyone. And if I thought it was something that just happened, that would be one thing. But I didn't know that I was part of this gross plan you had to get back at your girlfriend. And then you decided to be a complete hypocrite.” I can't even begin to describe how gross it makes me feel. Not to mention that I hate cheaters. My parent’s marriage fell apart because my mom was a cheater.

“I didn’t plan it.”

“You told me that you and Nancy broke up way before we did anything.”

“Because I was going to break up with her the next day.”

“How can you act like this is ok?”

“It’s not. I know it’s not. But if it makes you feel better, _you_ didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me. You thought Nancy and I were broken up.”

“It’s not that simple.” For some reason, I tell Steve the truth. "My mom cheated on my dad a lot. And I always told myself that I would never cheat on someone. I always told myself that I would never do anything with someone who’s in a relationship. And now that’s ruined.”

"Because you thought that sleeping with a guy who broke up with his girlfriend only a few hours earlier is somehow better.”

I know he’s right, even if what he did is worse. But my only response is, “You need to leave.”

“Sabrina-”

“Get out. Seriously. And the next time you see me, stay the hell away from me. Don’t try to talk to me. I don’t want to have anything to do with you ever again.”

Steve stares at me for a long moment before saying, “I’m sorry.” Then he leaves.


	19. Epilogue

_December 23, 1983_

I’m singing along to Don’t Stop Believin’ while I try to shove all of my records into one box. I have until midnight to get out of my mom’s house. After that, my mom is free to do whatever she wants with anything I leave here. According to my watch, I have three hours and eighteen minutes left. I’m almost done, though, and I’ll be out of here way before then.

The whole thing in court on Wednesday went smoothly. My mom didn’t bother to show up at all. Even though I wanted her to accept this and let me move on with my life, the fact that she didn’t bother trying to fight for me, or try to fix things in any way, hurt more than I’d expected it to. But the emancipation went through, and in the end, I guess that’s the only part that matters.

For the millionth time, I think about how glad I am that I got my cast removed last week. I can’t imagine trying to pack all of my things with one hand. Especially since my right arm still feels weird. I got the stitches removed at the end of November, but the scars still hurt sometimes, and all of the scarring makes it a little harder to move my arm. But so far, I’ve been able to manage.

The last month and a half hasn’t been easy for me. I haven’t been to school since the week Will was missing. Two days after I got out of the hospital, whatever had been holding me together the week before finally broke. I didn’t even finish getting dressed for school before deciding that never leaving the house again seemed like the best option.

Hopper had gotten my school to excuse my absences for the rest of the semester, telling them that I was dealing with a lot after my dad’s death and that the added stress of trying to become emancipated wasn’t helping me. They agreed, and I’ll have to make up the semester in summer school.

It took almost three weeks for me to start feeling normal again, but once that happened, I pulled my life together. I moved into my dad’s house and got a job at the arcade. I still don’t feel completely normal, though. I’m not sure if I ever will. But I know that I have to pretend.

I finally get the records into the box and tape it up. Then I take the box out to my car, a red and black ’73 Nova I bought for a pretty decent price. The car is the only expensive thing I’ve bought with the money I inherited from my dad. I’m trying to save that money, and I’m hoping I can use the money I make at the arcade to pay for everything else. So far, it’s been working.

Once I’ve got my records in the car, I grab a few more things from the house. Then I’m ready to leave. I look back at the house, and I don’t feel anything. I can’t I’m going to miss this place.

I’m ready to move on in my life. I’m ready to move on from everything. What happened last month is over, and I’m ready for my life to get back to normal.

Or at least, as normal as it can be after everything that’s happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is the end of Snapshot! This is a series that I've already written in its entirety (or at least up to season 3), so it shouldn't be too long before I post the sequel. I know that there was a lack of Steve and Sabrina in this story, but I promise that the next story has WAY more of them together, and it's actually one of my favorite fanfics I've written. Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who's read this story! I can't wait for you guys to read the next one!


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